


Veritas E Altare

by DenseHumboldt



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Joan of Arc but make it horny, Nick Fury has lost his sheep (not a spoiler), Pope!Yon and his conflicted boner, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Tension, Space pope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenseHumboldt/pseuds/DenseHumboldt
Summary: Welcome to my secret fic! AKA I have left it tagless, just because it's going to be a weird ride through my made up Kree Religion. If my first few readers think it is worth putting forward I might add them later.Essentially this is my Pope!Yon fic. So you know there will be lots of pining and made up rituals. And sinning. Just. So. much. sinningIf that sounds like your catnip please let me know what you think in the comments.Love and Apologies to everyone except Danni who requested this depravity from me, because apparently, I tailor porn for the people in my tumblr DMs. I didn't see that one coming.<3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrotesqueEnchantment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrotesqueEnchantment/gifts).



> Welcome to my secret fic! AKA I have left it tagless, just because it's going to be a weird ride through my made up Kree Religion. If my first few readers think it is worth putting forward I might add them later.
> 
> Essentially this is my Pope!Yon fic. So you know there will be lots of pining and made up rituals. And sinning. Just. So. much. sinning
> 
> If that sounds like your catnip please let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> Love and Apologies to everyone except Danni who requested this depravity from me, because apparently, I tailor porn for the people in my tumblr DMs. I didn't see that one coming.  
> <3

The light shone down on Yon-Rogg eldest son of the House of Rogg. He stood in the centre of an endless lake on the surface of the water. Despite its depth, the lake was as firm beneath his feet as the sand of the shore, he could see through the stormy water the shadows of fish flitting in the deep. It did not reflect the sky. Above him was blue with rolling white clouds. A single shaft of light cut through the immaterial mists, it cast a line of pure light down the centre of Yon's body, beginning at his forehead and ending at his groin. The light was hot, but not uncomfortable. It held him securely in place so he neither shifted nor wavered, as real and as comforting as the voice which spoke to him.

 

"I would honour you above all others, my son. I am in need of a new voice. The message of the Kree must be carried from my home on Hala to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. I have chosen you to be the conqueror of spirit, the bender of knees, the face of the Supreme Intelligence made manifest."

 

Yon felt the quiver inside his gut, the clawing aching desire for all that the Supremor was offering him. He had trained his entire life in service to the Kree Empire. He had honed his body into a fine weapon and forged his spirit to resist all temptations. He had already conquered a dozen planets in the name of the Kree Empire and built one hundred altars on each one. He had done it in the service of the last PlusKrusade. An old and feeble man, who grew weaker each time he had to commune with the Supremor. Now Yon-Rogg was to be given his crown.

 

He wondered if the man was already dead. The position could only be passed down through death. If he wasn't dead now, it would fall to Yon-Rogg to kill him. This was how one proved they were chosen by the Supreme Intelligence to succeed. It was not as if the Supremor had any other voice, they lived and spoke through the body of the PlusKrusade.

 

Yon allowed the light to continue to burn into him as he was filled with glorious determination.

 

"You do not kneel, son of Rogg?" The light in the clouds flashed, somehow it managed to communicate amusement, like the tinkling of bells. Yon-Rogg stayed very still. He knew the Supremor could see into him, that it would pluck thoughts and feelings as they bubbled up to the surface. This was a place where lying was as dangerous as it was useless.

 

"My time of kneeling is at an end Supremor, if I am to be your body made corporeal I can no longer bow to anything. To bow to you would be to bow to myself now that we are one."

 

The Supremor laughed. There was a glee behind the shifting and movement of the light which transferred its triumph into Yon and he felt buoyed by the love of the Supreme Being.

 

"You only make me more certain of my choice. As a devoted follower of our religion and as a servant to myself I trust you know what steps you must take, and to take them quickly."

 

"Yes," Yon-Rogg answered closing his eyes to prepare himself to be released from the simulation.

 

* * *

 

Khun Zan Uil had to be performed. No matter his eagerness to claim what was being offered to him he could not do the deed with the miasma of sin against his skin. He must move quickly. His audience with the Supremor would be noted. The PlusKrusade would be informed as would the leader of the Accusers. This would be a perfect time to strike and consolidate the two most powerful seats in their society into one. Ronan would know that. He was a young and virile Kree. He inspired fear in those beneath him. He was the only other possible contender for the next PlusKrusade. Yon-Rogg was older but not by much, he too had risen quickly through the ranks and plateaued early in his career. They would both be hungry for the next step.

 

Yon-Rogg reached his chambers quickly. He opened the door to find Vers lying in his bed, above the linens her booted feet dangling off the edge. He had no time to give in to the spike of emotion he felt seeing her there. She sat up quickly when she saw him. The light glinting off the obsidian black of her armor. He ignored her as he walked to the small altar niche in his room. It held the constantly flowing basin he needed for Khun Zan Uil. The water was meant to be like the Kree Empire always moving, always filling, always overflowing. Plentiful. Resistance was meaningless as the water flowed around any impediment it encountered.

 

Vers moved seamlessly behind him. She began to pull at the clasps that held his ceremonial armor in place. He felt the jostling pressure of her hands as she pulled apart the steel plates. He began to pray, his body shaking as she stripped him. There was nothing he could do against the rising beneath his gut. He had learned in the last year that it wouldn't be tempered by any amount of prayer or self-punishment. The burning he felt on occasion for the touch of another was his cross bear. He could find strength in not giving in to it. He felt the cool air of his room touch the coarse shirt he wore beneath his armor as Vers lifted the last heavy plate from him. He was grateful she had worked quickly, laying the pieces on their shelves beside his niche as each plate was removed. She tugged free the tapestry so it fell in place hiding the sacred vestments from view. The movement of the fabric falling free wafted her scent to him, the dark herb of her own ablutions, the incense caught in her hair, the sweat that gathered beneath their armor. It reminded him of her dedication, her own deep faith and the heat of how good the sin would be to take her.

 

She made to bow and leave but he caught her arm. He would need her. This was not his daily worship.

 

"Today I must be thorough and quick," he growled at her. She looked up from where he gripped her arm to his face.  Her mouth was an unmoving hard line. She nodded and her hands reached quickly for the fastening of his clothes. He forced himself to release his grip on her arm. The armor hid the firmness and spring of her flesh. There was no heat beneath his hands, but he could imagine it still. The room was cold against his skin as she slid the garment off his shoulders. She never looked at him when she undressed him. Not anymore. He had trained that small defiance out of her, for his own sanity. Knowing she could see his flesh prickle under her touch or watch the movement of his body unobstructed by armor was more than he could bear. There were thousands of tiny microfractures he had to make in her spirit so it would heal stronger and more rigid than it had been before.

 

She walked around him hands reaching for the buckle of his cuisse. He stalled her hand pressing her palm into his thigh. He was not in a state to be completely revealed.

 

"I said quickly," he murmured and she raised her eyebrows at him. He released her hand and she stepped away.

 

The scent of the sacred herb rose in the air as she turned to the endless spring. She wet a cloth and placed it across her two palms. She turned with it held towards him, long enough it hung in dripping folds off her raised palms. When held in this way it was a symbol of Truth that no lies could be spoken between those performing the ritual. Khun Zan Uil could be performed alone, but the ritual was more potent,  more powerful when performed by two. She sunk to her knees in the small space between the altar and his body. She raised her upturned palms so the cloth stayed at the level of his navel. As he took the cloth from her the transparent soaked linen flicked drops of scented water across her cheek. She did not flinch, she kept her eyes downturned. She was a flawless soldier of mercy.

 

"Do you know where I was?" He asked. He moved the cold cloth over his heated skin. He tried to purify his thoughts as she was supplicant before him.

 

"Yes," she murmured.

 

"Is that why you were waiting for me?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then you should have been better prepared to serve me." His voice was harsh, but she didn't react beyond the quirk of her mouth. Her wicked mouth that caused him so much trouble. He longed to punish her for it, to remove the smirk from her face. Except his traitorous heart knew he would miss it.

 

"Will you require my services tonight?" Her voice was tantalizingly low to the ground.

 

Would he? He did not yet know how he would feel after he killed the old man. He would need to wash again, but there would be no need for ceremony.

 

"No," he answered, at last, discarding the cloth, warm from his body, across her palms again. 

 

She rose from her knees, subtly stretching her aching muscles. If such a short supplication was enough to cause her discomfort he should train her harder.

 

She discarded the cloth and brought him a soft shirt. Unlike the stiff haircloth worn beneath his ceremonial armour, his personal clothes were luxurious. This linen was so finely woven it was said the nuns who made it went blind in the attempt. It would be a shame to ruin it with blood, but he thought it disrespectful to kill his superior in anything less than his finest. He shrugged into it and let her clever fingers tie the knots to close it.

 

"Do you want to kill him?" Her voice broke through his revery from staring at the golden crown of her head as it bent over her hands. He could feel the hot breath of her words through the thin fabric of his shirt. He inhaled slowly feeling the tightness in his stomach inch closer to her warmth.

 

"I want to be PlusKrusade," was his only answer. He felt the fire of jealousy fill him at the thought of anyone else beating him to the victory. She nodded her head.

 

"Goodbye Yon," she said with a small bow. They both knew that once he returned to this room he would be a different man.

 

* * *

 

Reaching the PlusKrusade was easier than he thought. The Supremor had obviously cleared his path. Even when he came to the door of what would soon be his own room it slid easily beneath his hand.

 

The room was as lush as Yon-Rogg's was spartan. The walls were paneled in pale wood, years of incense leaving darkened streaks in the knots and swirls. There were thick red curtains hanging from the bed and all the furniture had a gilded edge, the finest chrome inlaid in ancient Kree patterns. The PlusKrusade was reclined in a leather chair in front of a small fire.

 

"This was where my Commander was the night I killed him," his thin reedy voice greeted Yon. He sounded resigned. "So I know the blood cleans off it easily. Although you will need to replace the rug quickly or it will stain the sandstone."

 

The man sat forward an amber glass of spirits clutched in his hand. He took a sip, his mottled grey tongue following the bead of liquor left on his lips. Yon approached him slowly, the obsidian black blade braced against his leg.

 

"Excuse the sin, I did not feel like leaving this world as pure as I lived in it." The man looked at Yon-Rogg appreciatively. "I can see your eagerness, but I feel we should talk first."

 

Yon-Rogg was hesitant. He had not expected this. That the man would greet death so calmy and give up the power to another. That he would be ready to go. Yon-Rogg swallowed his nerves as stood before the dying coals of the fire. They were silent for a while as the PlusKrusade sipped his drink.

 

"Do you think you will redecorate?" The man asked. Yon instinctively swept his eyes around the room. He had not thought of that. "I said I would, but I never got around to it. Once it starts you will realize there is never enough time."

 

His drink was almost done. It would be a shame to waste it. The man leaned back into the leather. He looked up at Yon through bleary eyes. His skin over the years had become a faded blue so he was almost the colour of the sky. His eyes seemed to see through Yon, he wondered if that was the effect of years of communing with the Supremor. He tightened his grip on the knife.

 

"You get less blood on you if you attack from behind," the man's eyes turned peacefully towards the fire and Yon felt rage building that he could approach his defeat so calmly. He hated the small weak man had been the voice of the Supremor. He thought his Commander had been forged in heavier iron.

 

Yon-Rogg wasted no time in their silence. He stepped behind the back of the chair and swung the knife over his head. He felt the frisson of the man drawing a final breath before he swung the knife down. The obsidian sliced through the skin, and cracked through the ribs like nothing, though Yon felt the vibration and the shattering of the blade as it reached his heart. Tearing and piercing the muscle in one thousand tiny ways. The warm spurt of blood hit his arm and dripped down his hands. It was the dark dark blue of the Kree. The man gurgled for a moment before shuddering one last time. Yon collapsed against the back of the chair feeling the coolness of the leather against his cheek as hot blood continued to flow around where his hand was pressed to the wound. He stayed there and prayed in his awkward position. Saying words for the man's soul that felt meaningless compared to his act.

 

At last Yon released the handle of the knife and came around to look at the face of his commander. He looked peaceful. Yon's eyes followed the trail of blood to his lap and saw the crystal glass had one last mouthful of spirits in it. He plucked it from his lax hand and brought the smeared blue glass to his lips.

 

The liquor tasted of salt and fire. It burned as it went down. He tried not to think that there would be a day the Supremor unlocked his door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who read the first part!
> 
> I hope you guys will like the direction
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter ❤❤ DH

This was something Yon-Rogg had to do alone. It wasn't that Vers didn't understand that. She did, but she also understood Yon. Or as close as she came to understanding anything. He had been conflicted or at least torn between two strong emotions. She saw the way it burned behind his eyes as she knelt in front of him. She was worried he would be reckless or unsuccessful. He said he wanted to be PlusKrusade. And as much as that change made a lead weight form in her stomach she would do what she could to aid his ascension.

 

Now she stood guard at the end of the empty hall. She knew Yon needed to move quickly, but a small single craft had broken the air space above Tengerkhad. She had watched their darkened descent from an upper window after she had left Yon. They didn't want to be seen, which meant they were not here for anything good. If word of Yon's summoning to the Supremor's side had reached Vers it had undoubtedly reached others. They had spies among their number. Although they were not sure who they were it was expected once you reached a certain level of power.

 

Now Yon was accepting greater power, a higher standing than she could ever aspire to as a broken shell of a warrior. This was their last night and she would give everything she had to protect her savior. Even if that meant facing someone stronger and more lethal than her.

 

The footsteps were light, controlled. The intentional silence of someone moving towards their prey. Vers said a low prayer, begging the Supremor to loosen the reins on her power. To allow her body to channel the star fire that burned beneath her skin. She fell into warrior stance as the large man turned the corner.

 

"Are you lost, Ronan?" She tried to calm the waver in her voice. She was not scared she told herself. The quake in her muscles was merely her own power growing. She could feel it couldn't she? The divine intervention.

 

"Is this all the Son of Rogg thought to send? Only a fool would be so confident." Ronan paused when he saw her, his voice rumbled like thunder. Vers ignited the fire in her fists.

 

"You have no business here. I suggest you leave."

 

He laughed at her. His violet endless eyes glinted and she felt the deep rumble of his laughter roll down her spine like cold rage.

 

"How do you know the Supremor did not call me here? I have sacred business with the PlusKrusade." Ronan began stalking towards her, his footsteps heavy.

 

"You have no business here," Vers repeated. She squared her shoulders and walked towards him. The energy burning around her flowing off her skin in licks of fire.

 

"I will rip through you to complete my mission. Stand aside," he commanded.

 

"No," their bodies collided. He was so huge compared to her, a tower of muscle and iron plating, but she had been blessed as a warrior of the Supremor. The air was charged with pure energy as he tried to bat her away with a sweep of his arm. She gripped onto the blunt force of muscle, letting her body soften and curl around it. She was lifted momentarily into the air before colliding with sandstone wall. It hurt but she gripped into him and kicked their bodies away from the wall. He was shoved backwards struggling against the propulsion of her star fire. The hallway was narrow and he met the wall quickly. His eyes widened. She had surprised him. She felt glorious triumph fill her. Yon-Rogg never allowed her to fight like this, he called it undignified brawling. She felt alive. Ronan broke her grip shoving her backwards. She skidded on her feet. She didn't have to win she just had to buy Yon-Rogg time.

 

"He has been wasting you," Ronan said in an awe-filled voice. "Does he even know the power he commands?"

 

Vers grit her teeth. Of course Yon-Rogg knew. She was his greatest creation. His celestial weapon. If he kept her sheathed in service it was to increase her spiritual fortitude. She was a half finished blade. She braced for his impact again, silencing thoughts that Yon would never finish crafting her. He was going to be beyond her reach.

 

Ronan lunged for her, she tried to burn him away but he grabbed her shoulders through the pain, he lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing and slammed her into the ground. His massive body covered her as she heard her own ribs cracking. She screamed against the pain. Knowing no one would come for her. Yon-Rogg was so close, but the chamber was sealed against all sound and vibration. He would never know of her sacrifice.

 

"I like it when you scream," Ronan growled as he pushed her harder into the unforgiving stone. She swallowed the pain rolling her eyes back and trying to isolate herself from the grinding pressure of his body. If the star fire hurt him he didn't flinch, his face inches from her own. He looked at her fascinated.

 

"We do not have to be enemies," he grit out, he move a hand to her throat, pinning her to the stone, while he lifted the weight of his body off her. "If I am too late. If he is to be PlusKrusade then he will no longer require you. Serve me instead."

 

"Never," Vers choked against the pressure of his hand, her legs trapped between his powerful thighs. She wrapped her small struggling grip around the hand at her throat. His other hand came up to caress her face, her eyes wide and wild tracked the course of it.

 

"I did not believe my spies when they said Rogg had taken a lover. If I was wrong. If that is what you desire. I would not hate it if you burned like this." The hand slipped lower. Rage filled her. Tight hot rage. Not only that these filthy spies would defile Yon's name, but that her own desire would have welcomed it. That if her own body had had its way she would have offered him everything.

 

Her rage sprang free knocking Ronan backward. He landed heavy on the floor a dozen paces from her. She heard him fight to pull in breath as her own body was mired in pain. She struggled upright looking at him across the narrow space they had been fighting in. He rolled to his side, eyes holding hers as they both panted in place. There was a commotion behind them, a flurry of activity. Ronan broke eye contact with her as he looked down the hall. He moved his heavy body to his feet. Staring down at her with an unholy light in his eyes.

 

"My offer will stand far longer than Rogg's interest in you. Do not forget. You can come to me." With those parting words he turned and left.

 

Vers dragged herself half standing, half crouching down the hallway. She could not be seen here as the footsteps of the acolytes drew closer. There was a niche that she could lean in, so she could watch the reflection of the happenings in one of the many gold wall hangings. She saw reflected as if through water the wavering mass reach the door. She saw them quiver and draw back as the door was opened. And she saw a figure in white stumble from the room. Yon-Rogg triumphant. There was a murmur before they began to fall on their knees before his feet.

 

Now he was truly beyond the reach of her heart.

 

* * *

 

Yon-Rogg returned to his own room in a daze. He had passed through the groveling bodies in his blood soaked shirt as if they were nothing more than high shaking trufts of grass. He carried the hilt of the shattered knife in his hands. He had pulled it as proof from the collapsed and weeping chest of his old commander.

 

Now he stood alone here he regretted dismissing Vers for the evening. He felt like he was drifting somewhere above his body, the quaking need slaked he now felt hollow and empty. What did he expect from her? They would not celebrate. There would be no merriment. No falling into an embrace and finding joy soaked oblivion in each other's bodies.

 

Yet he yearned for her. For her irreverence. For her mocking smirk. He wanted her to laugh at his desires. To humble what he reached for. To make him run away from everything he had worked in his life to achieve. It was reckless, it was destructive and it was too late.

 

He was PlusKrusade. He was all he ever desired. And he felt nothing about it.

 

* * *

 

Vers' cell was even more spartan than Yon's. As only a foot soldier there was even less space given to her than that of a holy steed. At least the steeds got fresh straw every night.

 

Her small chamber was unlit once the sun was set. She had no candle or lamp. The space barely contained a cot and room for her to kneel in prayer. She had no fount at which to perform Khun Zan Uil, her ceremonial washing was to be done among the other soldiers. Except that Yon favoured her and allowed her the privacy of his own niche.

 

Tonight she should pray. She should thank the Supremor for all they had given her. The power to protect her master. Instead she merely held her aching sides and allowed herself the sin of collapsing in bed uncleansed and without penance. She lay in the dark remembering her first nights in Tengerkhad. The heavenly castle of the PlusKrusade. She had not spent them here. She had spent them in Yon's bed.

 

He had found her on a holy mission. That is what he had said when she awoke in a strange place with no memory. The dark steel plated room had smelled of incense and the wine red sheets that swirled around her smelt of burning ozone and sweat. There were jewel blue spatters on the silk. She had been naked except for the fine linen shirt that was wrapped around her, too large to be her own, one sleeve had been rolled up and a small bandage was wrapped around her arm. The blue soaked through it. Blood. It had been blood on the sheets.

 

Yon-Rogg had been there. When she awoke he was kneeling against the mattress in prayer. She could observe him for a moment before the fear and panic set in. She felt so safe looking at him, for one wonderful moment she felt she was looking upon something divine. Something predestined, but as the slow realization dawned that she was not dreaming the panic had set in and the spell had been broken. He sprung up reaching for her as she kicked away, hot flesh sliding on the silk beneather her. He had caught her ankle with his hand pulling her flat, her hands desperately reaching for the sliding hem of her shirt. He had moved up her body eyes locked on her face. He had gripped her shoulders and the warmth of his hands had felt so right. She could almost breath through the terror. He pushed her into the mattress. She remembered the way his gold eyes bore into her as if he could see her soul.

 

"You are safe," he had hissed giving her shoulders a small shake. "Nothing shall hurt you here."

 

Like a fool she had believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invasive Species

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS CONSENT WARNINGS
> 
> Its more of a religious consent than a sexual consent, but if this might squick you out or make you uncomfortable maybe stop now. Or stop at "How Can I be silent?" Then scroll all the way to the end for the last paragraph.
> 
> Take care of yourselves.  
> I love you. I think this is an important part of Carol's story, I hope you agree and understand the intention behind what I wrote.
> 
> I am here if you need to talk.
> 
> Love love love DH

_Five Years Later_

 

They were taking the planet. Vers stood on board their docked ship and watched hellfire rain down from the sky. She watched the Accusers' ships fly overhead and the missiles falling. Among the black obelisks were the drop capsules carrying foot soldiers. They were nearly indistinguishable from each other through the smoke and the night. Every so often Ronan's voice crackled through the comm, she could hear his voice as if it was inside her own head. She wrapped a protective arm around her body.

 

She felt Yon come up behind her. She saw the ghost of his reflection in the shield.

 

"When you stand like that I worry you are losing your faith." He was close to her his voice drifting across the small space between their bodies. She caught his eyes in the reflection and forced a smile. It was hollow and it didn't reach her eyes. "We have burned planets before."

 

"I am not used to standing on this side of the fire," she answered the orange glow licking its way up her reflection.

 

"Your place is beside me," Yon-Rogg glanced down at her small frame in her formidable armor. He wondered if she could feel his touch through it. He longed to run his two fingers along the rigid column of her spine, but he would encouter the razor's edge of spikes. "You protect me."

 

"Do you need protection?" She scoffed. She had often wondered at her place in his world. He had summoned her after he had become PlusKrusade, told her she was to be his bodyguard. She had been honoured. Now though, it tested her faith at times like this to stand behind him.

 

He was silent. He moved away from the shield and took his place on the throne. Vers turned to look at him. Her face was so open, pleading. It was at odds with the black glittering armor he had locked her body in. It fit her as closely as a second skin, every inch of it covered in flattened spines. They were sharp and deadly. It all locked together down the front of her body. A clear message to all who saw her; do not touch.

 

"Yon," she spoke at last. "This can't be what the Supremor wants. This can't be what you want."

 

Yon-Rogg bristled. She was so emotional. He had never successfully extracted the bleeding heart from her chest. Yon-Rogg wanted so many things he could not have. He wanted the planets to give in to the word of the Supremor without hesitation. He wanted to bring them light not fire and death. He wanted Vers to confess to him, to give herself entirely to faith. He wanted her to become as cold and untouchable as her armor. He wanted his weak mortal flesh to let go of her hold over him.

 

"Are you saying I am carrying out their order poorly?" He asked with an iron edge to his voice.

 

"I am saying that the burning of the planet won't bring the light of the Supremor to the people."

 

"Vers, words like this will not accomplish what you think they will."

 

"How can I be silent?" She moved and her armor made the dangerous slithering sound of scales.

 

"I have been kind by allowing you your own worship, but now I worry its let you wander from the true path." He stood and stalked towards her.

 

There was a time when he felt awkward in the dress of the PlusKrusade. That time had long since passed. He reached out for her shoulders and she flinched. She took a half step away from him. As her eyes traveled from his hands to her body he realized she feared hurting him. He followed her. He brushed the hair away from her face, holding her in his hands, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones. She closed her eyes, her breathing growing shallow. He ran his thumbs along the fan of her eyelashes. They were like silk, prickling across the sensitive skin. How long since he had touched her? Gently, reverently? When she had known? When she had consented with her silence to let him explore her.

 

"You speak blasphemy against your Commander. You should show your penance on your knees." He slipped his hands lower so he could put pressure on her neck, force her to bend her knees. She did, as she did everything, rigid supplication.

 

She knelt before him, his hands guiding her down unable to leave her skin. She kept her eyes closed and her head lowered. He felt beneath his fingertips how tense she had become. This was custom. It was expected that one enter confession, but they had not. Not since he had become PlusKrusade and would be her confessor. Now he wanted it.

 

His armor beneath his robe pulsed around him, the movement of small wires following his will and reaching for her.

 

"Will I find anything, Vers?" His voice almost broke. He felt the tightness in his chest of anticipation. She shook her head silently and he did not know what she meant. The tiny fluid wires flowed over his hands and fanned across her face.

 

There was a brief heat against his skin and then the feeling of falling.

 

* * *

 

Yon-Rogg had never smuggled a woman into his room before. He had been unprepared for the entire ordeal. Especially as this particular woman was dying. Now she was laying in the centre of his floor glowing a top the tapestry he had rolled her in to get her here. Beneath her was the scene of the first PlusKrusade entering the Supreme Intelligence. Their body was being lifted by one hundred tiny twisting wires and a dozen other Kree backed away in awe. The wires fed from a shining maw in the side of a temple. This was, in some ways, how the act of confession felt, the Supremor granting access to your deepest thoughts through tiny suckering filaments. It was a good reminder he couldn't keep her presence here a secret for long.

 

She was filthy. The blast had caused the glow beneath her skin but also thrown her body into the earth. The smoke marked her and she wreaked of the burning. What he was about to do was a multitude of sins. Each stacked and bleeding into the other. He paced around her fighting his own conscience. He could not leave her, nor could he have her put out of her misery. He had brought her back with the intention of handing her over to the council. That was what he had told himself. Instead he blanked the ship records and carried her in a rolled tapestry to his room. The Medic had placed an inhibitor in her neck to stop her body exploding into star fire on the ship, but they knew long term it would not be enough.

 

There was something he could do. Except it was a sin. He glanced at her, the pure fire beneath her skin made him want to give in. Could he save her? Teach her control? Was she to be the Supremor's avenging angel?

 

He had had a vision when the blast hit her and she was lifted off her feet. He saw her for one moment suspended in the air, light surrounded her and star fire like flaming wings behind her. She would be the savior of the Kree, their greatest weapon, the herald of a new age. And she would be his to wield.

 

Yon-Rogg paused again in his pacing. If she was a man he would be farther along, but her femininity was embarassing him. He scolded himself. Was she attractive? Did she stir his loins? Was she going to tempt him from his purity? Of course not. She was not even Kree. Before he could hesitate further he knelt at her feet and attacked the laces of her boot. Drawing one off and then the other. Her clothing was rough and smelled of fire and sweat. He sat her up against him her head lolling into the crook of his neck as he shoved the strange garment down her shoulders. Her skin was hot with star fire but it was also smooth and firm. He had never touched another in this way, even with eyes averted. She was loose-limbed and solid against him. He felt the caress of her low weak breaths against the skin of his neck. He tried to pray. It was too slow to do it this way. Too torturous to peel layer by layer away. It gave him room for sinful thoughts. He lay her back down and took a knife to the remaining seams. She would never need these clothes again.

 

Once she was naked he could no longer look at her. He returned with a cloth soaked in the heady water used for Khun Zan Uil and began sightlessly drawing the soot off her body. He tried to ignore how the heat dispelled the herb into the air. How he could smell the scent of it mixing with the fire and ash that coated her. She smelled like the place his soul would go to burn, like temptation. Even with eyes turned towards the sky his hands were able to map her body. When the desire to look at her grew too great he abandoned his washing and brought a shirt. This time as he pulled her closer against his shoulder to shrug the shirt over her shoulders she was like silk and flame. The heat that soaked through his clothes was like nothing he had ever experienced. His body demanded more, his skin screamed for it. He picked up her half clothed body and carried her to his bed. She was beautiful, he realized, reclined against the deep red sheets. He slept in greater luxury than the soldiers beneath him. His bed was larger and the linens were silk. He could slide her easily across them. He wondered how he would sleep in this bed again with the vision of her behind his eyes.

 

He rolled up one sleeve, exposing the dark blue veins of his arm. It was time for the greatest sin. The one he would commit before he lost his nerve. To give blood. To share the power of the Kree with a lesser being. To open a vein to her. He had stolen everything he needed. He understood the mechanics of how it should work but with actual flesh beneath his fingers, he hesitated.

 

He breathed deeply. Trying to push these traitorous desires deep inside where they could not be found by his confessor. He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, tracing the light blue of her veins with a single finger. She would blush prettily he thought, looking at the thin skin beneath his finger. He imagined her for a brief moment flushed above him. He shook his head against the madness.

 

He wanted only to wield her. He wanted her power. He wanted it in service of the Supreme Being. He was above these weak follies of the flesh.

 

He would forge her beyond the seduction of his touch and never defile her.

 

* * *

 

Vers lay on her side in her quarters. After Yon had made her kneel he had taken her confession from her. She had no control over what he could see, the power of the Supremor granted him full access to her mind. The confessor had to exercise control. They had to remain impersonal and pluck the sins as they bubbled to the surface. Her and Yon could never be impersonal. He had dived too quickly beneath the surface of her mind, invading her deepest darkest shames. She was sure he saw her own hands tracing her flesh, felt the heat she felt when she looked at him. She wondered how far he went in the few painful seconds he had been inside her.

 

He had pulled away quickly. She had fallen to the side with the shame and revulsion she felt of herself. He too had stumbled backwards, hands fisting into his robes as the silver tendrils crept back up his hands. He had sunk to his knees. He couldn't look at her. He shouted at her to get out.

 

Now she was in her quarters sinking deeper towards an exhausted shame filled sleep. Her body pulsing slightly from the siege on her mind.

 

That was when the light came. The light that had haunted her for weeks. Since Torfa. A golden shield that came from behind her eyes but also outside of her. Surrounding her like an egg in its shell. She didn't want it tonight. She closed her eyes tight against it praying.

 

"Let me in, my child," the clipped and soothing voice persuaded her. "We have so much to talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who had read and commented it means the world you have come to this little slice of weirdness..
> 
> I promise I am not abandoning my other fics. This one is just on my mind right now.

It had not worked the way it was meant to. He was meant to be able to stay above the surface. It was meant to be painless contrition. Acknowledgement of how one could serve the Supremor better. The correction of course. He meant to help her. He had thought he had been neglecting her eternal being. If she had been anything but coldly compliant he would have found another way but she had seemed so distressed by the taking of Q'morobi. He wanted to ease it by offering her guidance. This is what he had told himself as he had caressed her face, as he had indulged in soft and fleeting thoughts of her. Small rememberances of their time before he had ascended, before he had hauled her up too quickly through the ranks because he could not bear to be apart from her.

 

She had kneeled and the Supremor had allowed him access to her mind. Or so he thought. It wasn't until the unfamiliar feeling of falling that he realized something was not working as it ought to. In his brief time as PlusKrusade he had forgotten that the Supremor worked in mysterious ways. That in worship one looked not through a glass but through a silvered mirror. The majority of what one saw was a reflection of self, that you had to look hard for the places the glass was transparent.

 

In others, Yon-Rogg saw the separation easily. Except Vers and he were one. The places where the light passed through were nearly impossible to find. Small threads, slivers at best, that had to be navigated with intention and care. Care he had not taken when he had plunged towards her desparate to confirm her faith. The desparation made him weak. The desire made it impossible to keep them separate. He had looked into the mirror.

 

The Supremor had shown him his own sin.

 

It was more sensation than vision. He knew her body, knew how she felt. A map he had stolen through forbidden touches and sinful acts. The way her breath changed when she pushed herself harder, the unique breadth and tilt of her ribs when she was beneath him on the training mat, how the incense smelled in her hair. He felt pain. Her pain or his pain it was all an endless feedback loop created by his intrusion. Beneath the pain was the unfamiliar hot knife of euphoria. The addicting nearly painful surge of phantom pleasure. It surrounded him, invaded his cells and awoke within him the burning fire he was constantly trying to stamp out.

 

He had released her quickly. Dropped her as if she was a coal. He removed himself from the link as quickly as he could, trying to save his dignity as his touch starved nerves began to feast on the delights laid before them. How shameful if he were to spill himself in front of her. His desires, base and primitive gripped him as he stumbled backwards. He grabbed handfuls of the heavy robes he wore over his armor, the scratch of gold and the weight of them anchoring him. Letting him bend forward on his knees. He had to pray. He needed her away from him so he could dispel the weight of desire from his body. He had screamed at her and she had fled from him on dazed coltish legs. If she never returned it would be what he deserved.

 

Not that he could ever let her go. He would pursue her to the ends of the universe. She was his avenging angel, his flaming sword against a galaxy full of sin.

 

* * *

 

It was an important day. The changing of the guard, the release of the last PlusKrusade and the rising of the new. The Ascension of Yon. Vers had dreaded it. There were times in the last nine cycles where it had been as if nothing had changed.

 

The morning after her fight with Ronan Vers had pulled her aching body from bed at sunrise as was her custom and went to Yon's apartments. There had already been a crowd of people outside the doors, but she had been able to part them as easily as one might open a book. To her shame, it had fed her ego that her role by his side was remembered.

 

She had helped him clean the blood from his hands and dress to stand before the council. He had had the smallest smear of blue on his lip that she brushed away with the pad of her thumb. It had been a thoughtless action until she became aware of his breath moving hot against her skin and the way his gold eyes watched her. There had been no time to talk. There were things bigger than themselves being set in motion in Tengerkhad.

 

Yon had presented the knife hilt before the council that day. They had carried the Last PlusKrusade's body in on a litter. The four guards had placed him before Yon who stayed standing in front of the council, head bowed. Vers had felt cold thinking one day it would be Yon carried in front of his murderer. She did not know if she could ever allow the passing of the mantle in this way. If she had breath in her body no harm would come to Yon.

 

They split open the chest of the last PlusKrusade. They lifted his blue dripping heart for all to see before slicing it open and retrieving each shard of Yon's obsidian blade. They resurrected the knife, casting the splinters in gold, repairing the blade. He would wear this knife for the length of his reign.

 

Vers had watched from the back, prepared to disappear from his life after this day. As he left the council he beckoned her to his side. She had followed him in fretful silence. They would continue on these last few days as best they could.

 

Now was to be a festival day couched within a day of mourning. Yon-Rogg would release his predecessor from duty and after they would feast in the new PlusKrusade's honour. Then Vers would mourn the loss of her mentor.

 

She had found herself more than ever haunting the outside of his chamber door. He was not yet moved into his new apartments. There was scurrying from his room and two acolytes left quickly. They seemed distressed. Vers let curiousity get the better of her and she sauntered to lean in his doorway. Yon-Rogg stood before his niche stripped to the barest essentials, the water of Khun Zan Uil still glistening on him. She felt a stab of jealous someone else had washed him.

 

"Making friends?" She raised her eyebrows. He whipped his his head to look at her. She saw the barest hint of a smile, before he turned away from her.

 

"Have you forgotten who you serve that you make me rely on others?" He spit out the word 'others' as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.

 

"I served my Commander. You don't look like him." She let her eyes wander over the muscles of his back and thighs. The straightness of his posture, the grace of his movements. He couldn't see her. Her private desires were safe.

 

"You serve the Supremor, I am one and the same regardless of my state of dress. Now come in and shut the door."

 

She hesitated Ronan's words echoing in her. They believed them to be lovers. As if he sensed her hesitation he turned to look at her again, nodding with her head.

 

"You have seen me like this before." He looked down his body, a small self conscious swallow as he reached for his shirt. She laughed and stepped in the room.

 

She reached him and took the shirt from his crumpling hands.

 

"The light of God blinds me" she said stepping behind him and holding it open so he could slip it over his shoulders. It was a practiced motion. She could see his smile in the set of his shoulders. If she closed her eyes she could picture it.

 

"Must you always teeter on the edge of blasphemy?" He turned to her so she could close the fastenings. He looked her up and down.

 

"I am without a master. Who will handle my eternal soul now?" She asked. He looked at the top of her head. Her golden hair was singular in Tengerkhad, no other who served him had their own halo. His heart clenched. Did she think he could leave her?

 

"Do you think you could escape your duty so easily? You owe me a life debt, or have you forgotten?" Yon-Rogg felt his eyes drawn to the bed. He thought he saw the slightest inclination of Vers' head as if she too was thinking of the sea of silk where they began. It loomed red behind her. A reminder that he could easily carry her there and break every vow but one.

 

"I will be serving so low beneath you, you will soon forget I am there." She said bending her knees to help him into his leggings. As he stepped into them he balanced the tips of his fingers on her shoulder as if he was blessing her.

 

"I would have you beside me in all things, Vers" he said lowly turning away from her to tighten the fastenings on his own. He felt her freeze.

 

When he turned back to her his eyes found hers staring at him intensely.

 

"That could hurt you, Yon. Undermine your power."

 

She straightened and kept her head bowed. Her words could have too many meanings and Yon-Rogg felt each like a small weight around his neck. She moved to his armor. New and unfamiliar. She did not know where to begin with it.

 

"I did not mean like this," he ducked his head so she could begin sealing him into the chrome plated armor of the PlusKrusade. "I mean as my guard."

 

"I would spend my time trying to stop you charging into battle." She tried to shrug away smile, to gently deny the joy that was springing in her heart.

 

"Only because you insist on being rash and charging first. I am the one rescuing you." He could speak intimately to her as she secured the clasps at his side. His eyes held a conspiratorial gleam.

 

"Name one time," she demanded jostling him as she straightened the lay of the plates, locking them together.

 

"X 77, the battle at the Smokesea Ridge." She scoffed.

 

"That was hardly me being rash." A smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes darted up at him from where she knelt fastening his graves.

 

"Then what would you call it?" She could hear the laugh behind his voice, sitting tucked inside his cheek.

 

"Restrategizing- in motion," she answered straightening. He smiled, reaching for her. She let him take her shoulders.

 

"The Supreme Intelligence wants us to become the best versions of ourselves. Stay beside me. Let me finish what we started."

 

She stepped away from him and brought the wide neck mantle he was to wear. It was heavy with embroidery and stones.

 

"You would be promoting me above others who have earned that honour. It would be a mistake for both of us."

 

She struggled with the awkward garment, throwing her arms around him in order to get it around his shoulders. Instinctively his hands came up to brace her reaching body. She realized a moment too late he was was holding her, her arms around his neck and her face tilted up towards him.

 

"I will take care of any detractors," he said wetting his lips. She felt the small flex of his fingers against the linen of her shirt. She closed her eyes. He was so close to her. "Stay with me."

 

She knew she should refuse. That how it felt to be close to him would be its own punishment once the first surges of honour and excitement faded. Instead she nodded her head.

 

* * *

 

Ronan watched the fires of Q'morobi burn below and the retraction of the drop capsules rocketing from the surface as if his warheads were returning to him. Though he floated high above the stench of death and the smoke of fire, he liked to imagine he could smell it.

 

The planet had caved quickly under his assault. It was good. Too harsh an onslaught and their chromium mines could have collapsed. Ronan scoffed as he saw the blip of the PlusKrusade fleet on his radar. He wondered if the fool truly believed they were waging a holy war. Or did the Supremor tell him the truth?

 

If he didn't know by now he may never learn. Some did not. Some kept their fervor as their master rather than their slave. Ronan had mastered his fervor; his lust, his desire for everything he saw stretched before him. The power that was within his reach. His demons powered him and made him strong. The Supremor gave him strength because they provided an arena for him to play out his dark imaginings. It was why Accusers grew in virility while PlusKrusades dwindled. To him the Supremor gave, from Rogg it would take. Even now he had planted the seeds to take Rogg's celestial weapon. Sweetest of all the Supremor would force Rogg to offer it to him. That she would have to come to him after denying him for so long.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consummation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER GETS WEIRD AND I AM ONLY BARELY SORRY
> 
> Hey everyone just had to yell for a second. Let me know what you think of this one. 😉
> 
> Also I have been posting these from my phone and my spelling and grammar are trash without computer aid. Please forgive me❤❤❤DH

Duty would not bend to shame or disgrace. Vers could not hide in her room for forever. The light that had come to her had done little to soothe her. It warned her that she was fighting a war she did not understand, enticed her to leave her service and return to Torfa. This was how she ended up exhausted, with her head bowed standing behind the PlusKrusade's throne. They were in audience with the Accuser, his face looming above them on the smoke covered shield.

 

"The people have yielded and yet you remain in their atmosphere. Do you think it wise?" Yon-Rogg asked, he inclined his head. Vers heard the distaste in his voice. Ronan was overstepping again.

 

"I would plead my case with the Supreme Intelligence directly." Ronan's growl echoed in their empty chamber.

 

"I speak for the Supreme Intelligence. I represent their will. I urge you to leave my soldiers to their work."

 

"And yet here I remain."

 

Yon-Rogg rolled his shoulders, straightening so he could muster a deeper command from his voice.

 

"Do you mean to start a coup? You may out gun us, Accuser, but I have one thousand worlds at my disposal. The Supremor will drown you in sacrifice."

 

"I have petitioned the Supremor for use of your weapon." Yon-Rogg stiffened at his words. Vers instinctively looked at Yon. Ronan could not mean what they thought he meant.

 

"As you have not petitioned me, you have petitioned no one. Do not mistake your rank as having any influence on the decisions of the Supremor."

 

Yon-Rogg's rage was ticking upwards. The Accuser may have been Yon-Rogg's equal when he was a Commander but he was below the rank of PlusKrusade. He was not granted the same benefit of an audience with the Supremor. Ronan was merely trying to test his patience. Now he seemed to be threatening Vers and it was working. Yon-Rogg had to regain control, he could not show his weakness.

 

"All prayers are heard by the Supremor." Ronan replied tritely before severing their connection. Yon-Rogg ground his teeth.

 

Vers hovered behind him out of his sight, but he could feel her anxiety. He should comfort her, but they had not spoken since their disaster of a confession. When she had returned to his side he had frozen. Terrified any movement might make her change her mind.

 

"We should pray," he said to the air, trusting she was listening. "Cleanse ourselves of impious company."

 

"Do you think he meant me?" She asked from behind his throne.

 

"Your power is not widely known. He could have no idea your value. It is between the Supremor and myself."

 

Cold fear dripped down Vers' spine. Ronan had seen her power, she had shown him the avenging light gifted to her by the Supremor. She had never told Yon of this transgression. He had wanted her to learn to be strong without it, and yet she didn't know how. It seemed at times her powers were all she was and she was forced to hide them.

 

"What is it like to speak to the Supremor?" Her voice was low as if she was ashamed of the question but could not stop herself from asking it.

 

"The Supremor knows all and sees all. There is nothing that needs to be said. We need only listen."

 

"Why does the Supremor come to these worlds? Why do they care if they are worshiped here?"

 

"Vers," he stood from his throne and stalked towards the altar. He cast a glance at her, warning her once again to reign in her curiousity. She looked pale with her lip drawn between her teeth and he softened to her.

 

"What does the Supremor want from us, Yon?" It was such a simple question. One that should be easy to answer, but with the forest burning below them, it wasn't.

 

"It wants our fidelity. It wants us to be better than we are. To hold ourselves sacred as vessels of its will."

 

"I don't understand what that means anymore," she looked closed to tears frustration spilling off of her. His lack of control had made things worse and he did not know how to solidify her faith without risking touching her, invading her mind with his convictions and opening himself up to utter failure.

 

"What happened between us will not happen again," he assured her wishing he could draw her lip from where her teeth were worrying a dark blue stain. She nodded her fist instinctively clenching. "There was a time we would pray side by side. Let that stand for our confession. We will find the answers you seek together."

 

He knelt before the altar, a position he rarely took since his ascension, he placed his hands upon the chrome edge. He felt her move behind him, she came to his side and placed her hands beside his. He moved his hand so it covered hers, flattening it against the cold metal. An instinct he could not explain. A foolish desire for connection. She tensed.

 

He wondered how long her faith, her ease with their ritual, had been in peril. The desire to ease her concerns, to bring her back to the path, burned bright in him. He wished more than anything to show her their way was the right way.

 

Vers breathed in slowly trying to convince her body to find peace. The scent of the incense barely registered anymore she had been swathed in it for so long. It used to smell to her of deep wonder, a scent she knew only as it clung to Yon-Rogg's skin when he came to her, before she grew strong under his tutelage.

 

His warm hand pressed her palm flat to the cool metal of the altar and she closed her eyes. He began to murmur words in ancient Kree, a low hymn. He had melodious voice, trained from a lifetime of service. Theirs was a legion of singing warriors, men and women from whom the round tones of worship spilled without hesitation. She felt it as she always did between her shoulder blades, low shivers that made her want to rub her skin against something. When he would first pray over her, when he thought she was asleep, she would press her body to the silk sheets of his bed and feel relief in the cool pressure against her spine.

 

She tented her fingers against the altar trying to lift her palms away from the sensation she could not quite explain. She met the resistance of his palm and he held her flat against the metal that was warming to her. She didn't want to open her eyes, she wanted to pretend they were both dressed in their foot soldier armor and the last five years had been a dream.

 

The image filled her mind. He was dressing her for the first time. He had gained an audience with the PlusKrusade, laid her case before the Supremor. She had been accepted as his steward. They would live in symbiosis. He would care for her spiritual needs and she would aid his service to the Supremor. He was enclosing her in the armor that would become her second skin.

 

Except it was different, everything seemed cast in a halo of golden light so she could not focus her eyes against the glare. She felt him though, standing in front of her the words he said to her then mixing with the prayer he was saying beside her now. She felt the static beneath her skin pool lower, trickling along her spine and gathering between her thighs in pure sensation. She felt her body standing and kneeling at once, as if she existed in both spaces. She was drawn so deep she could not open her eyes.

 

She felt the shaking and the weight of Yon moving the plates over her. Each tightening of a strap jolting her and causing a vibration like a finely tuned crystal. She could not escape from the growing thrum beneath her skin, awash and blinded in golden light she could not step away from either Yon. She felt a small shudder deep inside her, a place she tried to forget. A neglected, eager place that came alive as the shudder became a pulse within her. She felt her breathing hitch and she was desperate for fullness. She could not move, could not slake herself as her hands itched to do, trapped unmoving against the altar. She could only breathe as the rhapsody grew deep in her own body. She bent her head further trying to curl around the sensation, her spine a tight arch like a bow string. This was not prayer as she was used to. This was something different, something greater and more fearsome.

 

Yon-Rogg could not explain the sensation he was experiencing, his eyes closed in prayer the light of the Supremor reached out to him as it did when he communed alone at the altar. Were they hearing his prayer now? His earnst desire to bring Vers back to true path. They had never come when there was someone to bear witness before. He felt exposed and raw. He felt Vers tense and heard her breath become panting. To his shame a darkness bloomed low in his belly as he listened to her, and felt the bending and shaking of her body. He continued his prayer feeling the notes vibrate in his chest and the light of the Supremor warm him. He should release them soon, but he could feel between them a lush heat growing and he was too weak to stop it. He would say every prayer he knew if it meant being so close to the wave that was breaking over Vers, again and again. His own pleasure grew as the light pressed down on them. He felt he was close to something he had never achieved before.

 

At last, he felt her shivering reach its pinnacle and she let out a small broken cry as her body bent nearly double, forehead pressed against the cold metal. He felt the fervor that held him ease and he looked at their hands where they were pressed together. He felt the slither and flash of silver and his body went cold. Vers wouldn't have seen as she turned her face eyes still clenched closed, her breath fogging the silver of the altar. He almost wasn't certain what he had seen, but he felt in some way they had been caught.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere above Q'morobi was as thick and turbulent as the storms that often gripped the surface of Torfa. Here there was no radiation for them to hide behind. They had to rely on their cloaking system. The great ships of the Accusers passed beside them like giant sea creatures. Serene, but deadly. Each pass that came too close caused their ship to rock in the atmosphere like a boat upon the water.

 

He watched on the screen as a thin blue line jumped and the numbers flucctuated wildly. He couldn't figure out what she was doing. This was different than anything they had seen in the weeks they had been monitoring her, except sometimes when she dreamed. There had been no lull to indicate sleep. In fact, he had been watching her heart beat nervously for the last hour.

 

So much of his hope was wrapped around this thin blue line glowing across his screen. He could not stop watching it. He would dismiss his men and simply watch each beat move fluidly across the screen. They had been moving slowly with her, preying on her own depraved religion and worming their way inbetween the gaps in her faith. He felt they were getting close, but this firing of nerves and thundering of her heart was making him nervous.

 

They would have to move their plan ahead quickly if they were to succeed. They could leave nothing to chance now they had found her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this quick so my friends across the pond can read it before bed. I will fix my terrible mistakes in the future. Possibly after retirement.  
> Love comments  
> Love you  
> I want you to have the best day!  
> DH

Yon-Rogg released the altar as if it burned him, he tried to stand but his legs would not unfold from beneath his body. He looked at Vers' languid slumped form. She glowed softly, her cheeks flushed and her golden hair clinging to the places it met her skin. He thought she had never looked so beautiful even though she was crumpled against the stone altar. Whatever had just happened it had not been his intention. It had been as glorious and soul defining to experience by proxy as it had been mortifying to realize they had had a divine audience. The Supremor worked in mysterious ways, had he not just re-learned this lesson?

 

Vers began to stir, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her chest lifted slightly as she drew in air against the tightening of her lungs. Everything had become so tight, so tense. Her eyes shone. He opened his mouth but he found he had no words. He forced his legs to move and pushed himself up from the altar. He offered his hand down to her and she glanced at it suspiciously. He could not blame her his hands had been hard on her these last two cycles. Trusting him had come at a heavy cost.

 

"What happened?" She asked as he pulled his hand away. He would let her stand on her own if that was what she wanted.

 

"You experienced the love of the Supremor." She raised her eyebrows at him as she came back on her knees with shaking limbs.

 

"Does that happen when you pray?" Her voice had an edge of suspicion and mockery. He wondered what it was she felt beyond religious ecstasy. A sensation that he did not have the words for.

 

"Not like that," he bit back a smile and extended his hand to her again. This time she took it. "Do you understand now the love the Supremor has for us? The gifts it wants to share? The value of worship?"

 

She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded not as if she was agreeing but as if some new puzzle had opened up to her. Yon still felt the shivering beneath his skin of what had passed between them. He was uncomfortably firm in his armor but the aching need he normally felt was assuaged by witnessing her fulfilment. He thought if only she would agree with him, reaffirm her faith he would feel at peace with his impious body.

 

"We will be able to leave Q'morobi soon, if you would benefit from time to reflect I can do without you for-" his words were interrupted by a roar overhead and explosions on the ground. Their ship, no longer braced for war, rocked.

 

Vers ran to the shield to look out on the surface. That was when the blast shattered the screen. Throwing them back and the world went dark.

 

* * *

 

She was eating for the first time in days.

 

Before there had been long hours when she was unconscious or shuddering in pain against the blood that was filling her veins. Yon-Rogg knew it was killing her terran cells and mutating her into a Kree-hybrid. Soon she would be worthy of the Supremor's light. He had prayed over her when things had grown the darkest. He hoped she would not remember the times when the pain would grow so great she would begin to whimper and cry out. When he would have to press his hand against her mouth as he prayed over her. He would hold her down as she writhed and cried. He knew this was part of it; the pain was penance for being born less than Kree. The Supremor was merely rectifying the natural state of things.

 

He prayed over her when she was asleep too. To be on his knees before her seemed to be his constant habit. He did not like to think it was because he could think of no other excuse to be by the bed, sharing the same space with her. Other than when he occasionally braced her upright against him and helped her drink or lay damp cloths on her to leech some of the burning heat from her skin. The heat was waning as his blood made her strong.

 

That day he felt her eyes on him and he stumbled in his prayer. She was rolled on her side one of his shirts knotting around her body. He struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not allow them to dip lower to where her long legs were twisted in the sheet. Having her here like this was an aching reminder he had never had a woman before. Even though she was not his kind their biologies were so similar, she had taken his blood so there must be some compatibility between the two. He swallowed against intrusive sinful thoughts.

 

"How long have you been awake?" His voice cracked around the strain of praying for so long.

 

"A while," she smiled a small self conscious smile at him and he felt a blush creep behind his ears. He was not used to others witnessing his prayer. When alone, it was a deeply personal to commune with the Supremor.

 

"I should leave you," the room felt too small for the both of them, especially with her warm from sleep and watching him with curious eyes. He wanted to sate her curiousity about anything, everything. He wanted to sate his own as well. He wanted to know what it was about the Terran that had allowed her to survive other than the will of the Supremor. Why had she been chosen?

 

He also wanted to know dark unforgivable things. For instance, how her mouth, which he had so often pressed against his palm, would taste. He wanted to know if it was ashot beyond her lips as it was against her skin. If pressing inside her would burn as beautifully as touching her had when he first rescued her.

 

"Please stay," a look of concern passed across her face. Yon-Rogg froze.

 

"I will return. You should dress," he could not stop the darting of his eyes. Her eyes followed and she snatched the sheet higher.

 

He wanted to pull it away. He wanted to crawl over her and undo the simple knots that kept her covered. He wanted to look at everything he had averted his eyes from when she was merely a Terran. That was why he had to leave now before he lost control. Lost sight of why he had brought her to Tengerkhad in the first place.

 

He retreated for over an hour. Haunting other places in the castle, avoiding the looks of those going about their day without a fugitive star in their room. When he returned he thought for one heart stopping moment that the room was empty but she emerged from the small chamber where he washed. She was fresh faced and in places the heavy linen shirt he left her stuck. The leggings did nothing to hide the shape of her either, if Yon-Rogg had clung to the faint hope she would be less alluring when clothed he was mistaken. She smiled at him despite the shakiness of her limbs and the obvious effort of staying upright after being bedridden so long. He swallowed against the tension in his throat and chest. He tried to be nonchalant as he placed the small bowl of food he had brought with him on the sideboard.

 

"Is this your room?" She asked returning to the bed as he stayed awkwardly orbitting the perimeter of his small chamber.

 

"Yes," he answered trying to keep his voice friendly. Calming. He wanted to soothe her.

 

"Then where have you been sleeping?" She asked leaning against his headboard.

 

"The floor," he answered, nodding to a bedroll he had tucked away once daylight came.

 

"Should we switch tonight?" She had obviously decided she was comfortable here.

 

An adaptable woman. He wondered if where he found her, how he found her, meant she had been a warrior before she was his patient. The thought of her sleeping on the floor and him on the bed repulsed him as the image grew in his mind of the two of them together on the floor. Locked around each other. He must have stayed silent for too long because she began to shuffle nervously against the silk.

 

"We will keep things as they are. You aren't well."

 

"I have been in here too long. I am starting to feel like a prisoner." She said it with a smile, but he sensed a question behind her words.

 

"What do you remember before you came here?" He distracted himself by sorting through the food he brought. They were meager rations at best. He chose a hard-skinned gorru fruit and tossed it to her.

 

"Waking up here." She caught the small brown fruit awkwardly. She inspected it as he watched her. She ran her nail experimentally over the ridges, it made a soft ticking noise that could be heard clearly in the silence that had fallen between them.

 

He didn't think before he crossed to her and plucked it from her hands again, he searched with his thumb for the soft spot in the rind. He bit into it, cracking the skin so it could be split easily. She watched him fascinated as he widened the split with the edge of his thumb, rocking the fruit again his palm expertly to open it. He handed it back in two glistening halves.

 

She bit into experimentally unsure of what parts were edible and what was rind. Yon-Rogg found he couldn't turn his eyes from the way her mouth sucked at the pink flesh. She wiped away small trails of juice that escaped her lips. She looked up at him apologetically and he found the shame to glance away.

 

"What language do you speak when you pray?" She asked working around the shell of the fruit. Yon-Rogg returned to the food on the table, cracking open a dark brown loaf. He had not thought far enough ahead for how he would explain to her what had happened. He lifted his eyes to ceiling asking the Supremor for guidance and forgiveness.

 

"It is the language of the ancestors. The language we spoke when the Supremor first came to know us. We speak it to remember the ancient covenant between us."

 

She walk towards him, he tensed slightly the desire to share the taste of the gorru fruit with her was as strong as when he had first retreated. She put the rinds on the plate and looked greedily at the bread. He couldn't hold back the smile he felt as she snuck the bread from out of his hands.

 

"And what covenant is that?" She broke the bread in half again.

 

"To further its reach across the galaxy. To pull as many planets under its care as possible." She nodded as he spoke. "And to crush beneath the heel of salvation those that would defy its love."

 

She paused bread halfway to her mouth. She swallowed with wide eyes. He understood how it must sound to preach both love and war, but she would learn. He could teach her to understand their holy mission.

 

"Who would deny something if it was good?" He smiled at her question. He could make her understand.

 

"Our ancient enemy," he began with a patient smile.

 

* * *

 

"Wake up, wake up my child," the light flickered around her and made her eyes ache. She felt the heat of it surround her, but she could not move. Her mind was divorced from her body, vulnerable and aching.

 

"Who are you?" She croaked her voice tight with the smoke and fire she had inhaled in the blast.

 

"I am the Truth. I am the one that has come to free you from your chains and return you to your mission."

 

"My mission is to serve you, the Supremor," She answered trying to find the edges of the blackness and wake up her body. She had become familiar with the light, it had comforted her fitful sleep but she never wanted to be without her control again.

 

"Your mission is one of Peace. You are serving the wrong masters in this war. I called you to return to Torfa, but I cannot wait any longer. I had to come to you."

 

"Where am I?" She asked her confusion growing. The light that had dimmed as it spoke now grew strong again.

 

"You are home."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retribution

Vers was becoming slowly aware of her body. She could feel heaviness and warmth. The light that had once surrounded her, endless and immaterial was now firmly in front of her. Fixed and directional. It stung to open her eyes.

 

She let her head fall to the side and felt her organs and humours shift like stones. She tried to speak the language of her body, to reconnect her limbs to her will. Only then could she begin to figure out what had happened.

 

She knew there had been a blast. Had the Accuser's come too close? They should know better. The thought oozed slowly into her that she did not know where Yon was. He had been farther from the blast. If she had survived, surely he had too.

 

She had survived, hadn't she?

 

She had heard the voice light. It had said she was home, but this was not Tengerkhad. She could tell by the minutia that battered at her senses. It was warm, too hot to be the drafty rooms of the palace. And she could still smell fire and war.

 

She fluttered her eyes open again. No sense came of it, only a different darkness. It hurt, she could feel the bright light on her cheek, streaking down her neck to her chest. Her skin was alive with the warmth of it. Skin that had been encased in armour and spines for five years. She moved her fingers enough she could feel the scratch of cotton. Her armour was gone. Panic set in more firmly.

 

She forced her eyes wide, the room was dark. Iron paneled and vaulted. Like the innards of a mechanical whale one large rib jutted from the wall.

 

This was not part of the PlusKrusade's ship. She thought of the black crafts of the Accusers. Was she on board an Accuser vessel?

 

She tensed and forced all the breath from her body as she sat up. She hung her head forward into her hands, fingers mapping the edges of her face. She could feel the grit of dried blood and ash, it clung to her hair and to her skin. Flecks of shield, shattered and flung inward, fell from her hair like grains of sand.

 

She was on iron bench, raised above the floor. All around her and stuck to her flesh was the smell of burning. Purged from her body was the glow of pleasure and joy she had felt from praying to the Supremor. All that was left was the shame of Yon witnessing it. It was sin beneath the guise of piety. She buried her head in her hands and screamed open mouthed and breathless into the echo of flesh.

 

She knew where she was. She was in Damnation and all that was left was to meet the Devil.

* * *

Talos no longer felt joy, the organ for it had been wrenched from him six years ago when his call to his wife had gone unanswered. When he met through the static of the void empty space where she should have been.

 

Honour no longer had a place in his life. Nor his sacred mission, nor conviction. He had only rage and love fused through alchemy to iron in his blood. His ship was stolen from the fleet he had abandoned, his crew those men and women whose families were under his wife's protection. They were heartless ravagers. They tore through the galaxy determined to reclaim what was lost. Their brethern now enemies as they were deserters.

 

There could be penance later when he had reclaimed her. She was his devotion, his joy, his faith made material by the old gods. If the Elders thought he held any other creed than what could be wrought from her body they were wrong. She was his diety and the Kree had stolen her as they had stolen all the idols of the planets they conquered.

 

Talos would be the one to burn them.

 

Their success in capturing the Terran had been unprecedented. It had been a last ditch effort as his window to convince her to come to him willingly had been shrinking. She was receptive when he spoke to her in her dreams, he had had hope. However she had always refused to come to him. She had told him that she served the PlusKrusade and could not leave him. She served a murderer.

 

He had been saving the harsher truths for when she came to Torfa. They could not be hidden in dreams, the atrocities had to be witnessed, made flesh to be understood. As he sat in his captain's chair his head in one hand he turned his mind to how to frame such things. How to present his case and sink his fingers into the chinks of her faith.

 

"General?" One of his crewmen interupted him. The tone of fear in his voice made Talos tense.

 

"Is she awake?" He asked lifting his head.

 

"We believe so, sir."

 

"You believe so, can't you tell?" He asked coming to his feet, his long leather tabard falling heavy against him. The crewman looked down.

 

"It's just that she is gone," he said weakly.

 

"What do you mean, gone?"

* * *

Yon was surrounded by acolytes, his rage was growing. They were undressing him before the screen in an escape ship. They had dragged him here after the explosion. He had risen from the blackness of his injuries demanding Vers be brought to him, batting away the hands that had tried to pull away his singed and smoking robes. When they told him she was gone he had demanded Ronan be called, he had been vicious with rage. He should have known better than to hurl himself at a wall.

 

"What do you mean you don't know what hit us?" He demanded as the prying of the servants shook him. The pain was intense, but it was nothing to what seized his chest. The flames had engulfed her. He had seen for one blinding second before the blast had thrown him backward; Vers surrounded by flames and her own power lifting her like a rising star even as she went limp.

 

Through the connection Yon could see Ronan was in his war room, seated on a large iron throne. Compared to Yon he was calm, in control. The PlusKrusade was left doubly humiliated as the Accuser's cold violet eyes watched him with pity.

 

"It was a small ship. Cloaked. To fire that large a charge then jump from within the atmosphere would have expended a large amount of power. Wherever they went I am sure they are hobbled," Ronan delivered the speech coldly.

 

Yon could sense the smugness through his composure. Yon had lost his celestial weapon and his official vessel was damaged almost beyond repair. He would be forced to return to Tengerkhad in the smaller escape ship. He knew Ronan's words before he spoke them.

 

"The Accusers will pursue them," Ronan said with a magnaminous tilt of his head, "as a service to the Supremor."

 

Yon's gut clenched. He knew to the depths of his soul that Vers was still alive. He would not let Ronan near her if she was weakened, if she was in need. Yon would pursue her himself. It would be him who rained retribution on those who sought to harm the Supremor. He did not know why they had taken her, but rumor and suspicion grew. If they thought she was his weakness he would prove them wrong through his coldness, and only when their gaze was elsewhere would he move to reclaim her.

 

"Do not concern yourself with a single ship," he said callously. Ronan cocked his head. "As you said, they have damaged themselves in the attempt."

 

"Would the Supremor agree with your assessment?"

 

"I am the voice of the Supremor."

 

The call cut out and Yon-Rogg surged to his feet gnashing his teeth in his frustration. His servants scattered from him. Ronan was growing more impertinent. There was nothing the PlusKrusade could do to influence the Accusers and Ronan knew it. His lack of reverence was no more than impiety.

 

"Leave," Yon-Rogg snarled at them and they scattered willingly. He paced the room trying to find the edges of his fury, to fold them in and regain his control. He turned to the private altar in his rooms. He would need to commune. To ask guidance. To supplicate himself.

 

He felt fear at the thought of exposing his harrowed soul to their God. He would know no peace until she was returned to him. He rubbed a hand over his cheek, feeling the sting of burnt and cut flesh. The medics would descend soon, he would have to let them in. The servants had stripped him to his leggings. He felt exposed and small in a way he had not since he became the PlusKrusade. He should revel in this vulnerability. He should in this moment seek the comfort of the Supremor. He should be eager for the supplication he told himself as he slowly approached the altar.

 

He placed his hands upon the chrome delicately. It was cold beneath his touch. He took a deep breath and sank slowly to his knees, his shoulders flexed and stretched against painful flesh. He bowed his head and closed his eyes reciting the words in ancient Kree to call to his lord.

 

He felt the snaking of the filaments over his fingertips, cold and slithering until they wrapped over him.

 

Then there was light behind his eyes.

* * *

Vers walked barefoot down the corridor carrying a sword. She had relieved the first guard she had met of his weapon, leaving him crumpled against the wall. The pressurized air in the ship wafted against her thin white shift. She must be a sight, she thought, pale and mostly naked. Her skin covered in ash and her muscles shaking against the pain of holding the sword in front of her.

 

She heard many boots running and she ducked behind a rib. They passed her in a jogging knot their armour clunking with each step. She needed to conserve her strength and find an escape so she could call Yon.

 

Once they were safely around the bend she continued down the hallway, it was dark and the paths snaked along with no sign of direction or intention. It felt like being lost in the guts of an animal, all paths leading to one place.

 

A door rose in front of her as the hall ended. It was large, she felt dwarfed by it. She gripped her sword more firmly feeling the stones studded into the handle pressing into her palm.

 

As she approached it, it slid open pulling in a draft of air like a beast inhaling. She stepped inside the room that glowed with screens. A singular figure stood in front of the shield looking down at the jewel blue planet below.

 

"They told me you were awake," he said in a low growl. She knew the voice. Her grip wavered.

 

"Where am I?" She demanded. He turned to look at her, his face carved and green. His eyes glittered. She had never seen a Skrull before today but she knew the face of evil when she saw it. She felt violated knowing the light that had comforted her came from her enemy.

 

"You are on board  _the Hævner_ orbitting Terra," he took a step closer to her his hands behind his back and she beared her teeth holding the sword more firmly. He held up his hands in peace. "I am sorry you woke alone. It was not my intention."

 

"You think that is the issue? You stole me," she flung the accusation at him.

 

"I have returned you."

 

"You can't hold me. The PlusKrusade will come for me."

 

"We have disabled your tracker. The Kree won't find you. If you listen-"

 

He tried to come closer but Vers snarled at him.

 

"The Supremor can always see us. All I need is an altar."

 

"You will not find one on this ship."

 

She nodded at the planet that swirled below them, "I will escape here and find one."

 

The Skrull looked over his shoulder and laughed, he pointed at the planet.

 

"You won't find one there either. It is a backward place, but the Kree did not conquer it."

 

Her rage grew, "then I will bring them the light of the Supremor."

 

He looked her up and down.

 

"And how will you do that? You are a girl in a slip with a sword. They're animals down there they will burn you as a witch."

 

"Heathen," she spit at him and he growled.

 

"The Kree came here once," he hissed, edging closer to her. His voice was cruel. He no longer wanted to placate her. "Do you know what they did?"

 

"What?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

He leaned closer so she could see the ridges of his face cut clearly by the light.

 

"The man you call PlusKrusade abandoned his mission and ran away with a Terran, but not before he stole something precious from me."

 

Hate made her breath come in short pants, how dare he accuse Yon of anything so vile as cowardice and theft. She would pluck out a man's eyes for less.

 

"If you think to gain retribution by stealing me you dishonour his piety and I will strike you down."

 

"Have you not figured it out?" He laughed at her. "Can't you see who the Terran was he stole? Have you never wondered who you are?"

 

Her rage and panic boiled over as his words burned her. Everything the light had told her warped by seeing the truth behind. She cried out thrusting the sword towards the Skrull. He roared as she pierced his shoulder. Blood gushed around the wound and he dropped growling to his knees.

 

She dropped the hilt and turned, running from the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter Long Everyone!
> 
> I have been struggling as some of you know and can't write as fast as I used to. Please forgive any reduction in quality stemming from my diseased and soggy brain.  
> Please leave me a comment or a kudos as an easter present 😘
> 
> Love love love DH

The pod was barely the size of her body. Vers ran from the Devil, leaving him bleeding, and found her way here. Where the escape pods hung black and glistening like seeds in the rotten core of a gorru fruit. She had never encountered a ship as dark and loathsome as the Skrull's ship.

 

If she had inspected more closely then she would have seen the wear on the panels. The gouges from weapons hurled into the walls in fits of anger and madness. The ragged repairs to keep the systems barely limping across a cold and empty galaxy. _The Hævner_ was less a ship and more a blackened and scarred heart torn from the funeral pyre.

 

Escape was her only object. The Devil had said there was no altar on the planet below, but if Yon had been there he would not have left without building one. He was ruthless and regimented in his service. He would never have left his work unfinished. The irony was not lost on Vers that her faith meant she put half stock in the Skrull's words. That she was plucking truths as they gave her strength. She shook her head to clear her aching muddled thoughts. She needed to return to Yon. To the Kree. There was only one way to do that.

 

She clambered into the tight pod, ridged and shaped to look almost like the undulating form of a woman carved from black stone. She lay back and felt the pressure immediately adjust as the firm leather pads hissed and shaped around her body. She twisted and turned looking for controls, fearing at any moment they would come for her. 

 

At last, her hands found the notched grooves meant for fingers. Five on each side so she was forced to lie like a corpse. She pressed her hands into the moulded shapes to engage the switch. The sensation of being sucked back began immediately as the pod shuttered and tilted. The darkness was complete for a moment before the red flickering lights illuminated the innards of the craft. She had never been more aware of her nakedness as she felt the craft open and drop her into the emptiness below.

 

* * *

 

The light filled his senses and when he could stand the burning no more he opened his eyes to the world of drifting clouds and an endless silver lake.

 

The unbending shaft of light pooled just before him as he drew in a shaking breath. How foolish to shiver here when he had no body, no lungs, no ventricles that required the functions of life. He was barefoot and naked as he crossed the frozen water to stand in the warm shaft of light.

 

"You have suffered needlessly, son of Rogg," the heavenly voice spoke to him. It seared more than a brand not to be addressed by his title but by his family name.

 

"Is transparency necessary when I supplicate myself without guard before you?"

 

"Is it necessary to speak the words of sin even when your God has seen all? You are wiser than such a question."

 

Yon hung his head forward. It was an impudent question. The question a deceiver might ask. Speaking the sin was what made it whole so it could be absolved. Without the transmutation to words, it never had life. Without life, it could not be forgiven.

 

"You have no supplication for me?" The voice pushed.

 

"My devotion will not allow me to speak remorse that is half-formed."

 

The light scattered in the clouds and Yon-Rogg could almost envision it as laughter. As pleasure.

 

"Your judgement is always so clear. That is why I must give exception to your sin. It fascinates me, watching it grow has been an uncommon pleasure in this unending existence."

 

Yon-Rogg lifted his head, he crooked his brow and looked as best he could at the source of the light. Squinting his eyes so he could see something beyond the blinding white. He had never considered the Supremor could feel boredom.

 

"I do not understand."

 

"Your charge, the devotion you show her, the bond you share it is all unnatural to the Kree. I have been watching it cultivate with great interest."

 

"You call it unnatural to my people but is it not a defilement of your command?"

 

"I seek to be God of all peoples. The mixing of two races blood only displeases me if it lessens their service to my will. Purity is a Kree command. The PlusKrusade who aids me in this holy mission serves more than the Kree but every soul where we have built an altar. Have you forgotten?"

 

"In name I serve them but surely you do not covet their souls the way you covet ours. Would you have me bring them into your light so directly?" Something in Yon-Rogg squirmed and revolted. Had he misunderstood? Did he still misunderstand is own transgression?

 

"It's strange, son of Rogg, that you think what you have done with the Terran has corrupted you, but that is not true."

 

"It is not?" Elation shot through him. He had not anticipated easy forgiveness. To be told he was not so hopeless as he felt.

 

"No," the voice of the Supremor said flatly. "It is the ones who surround you who have corrupted you. I have watched them close their hearts to the true meanings of my teachings. I have seen PlusKrusade after PlusKrusade fail for generation after generation. I had hoped it would be you who broke the chain."

 

"Tell me what it is I must do," his voice broke as he stepped even farther into the light. He felt it burn into his naked flesh.

 

"You must retrieve the angel you found. You must train her properly so she can fulfill her destiny as the miracle by which we convert the faithless. Let what burns them be the light of God and not the fire of the Accusers. You must give up your covetous ways and bring her fully to me. If that means loving her free from shame then you must find a way to further that love until it returns as devotion to me."

 

Yon-Rogg fell to his knees, his eyes fixed and burning on the source of the light.

 

"Thank you, Supremor. Thank you. I will not fail."

 

* * *

 

The impact of the escape pod driving itself into the sand rocked her body and caused her teeth to chatter. She could not brace as her hands were locked at her sides and only the pressure of the craft kept her from dashing her brains on the steel front.

 

For a long moment, nothing happened and she began to fear she was trapped inside. Until the coffin hissed and her hands were released as the pressure eased. She fell forward, gasping around panicked and constricted breaths as the front opened. The air was cold and carried the taste of salt. The pod sizzled in oil black sands. She stepped without caution into the muck. She was certain no harm would come to her and she could not explain it. This foreign planet should frighten her but the wind and the orange light carried a familiar sense of home. Even though the jagged black cliffs Tengerkhad sat upon were nothing like the beach and soft rolling green hills in front of her.

 

She pushed the Skrull's words from her thoughts. She was allowing herself to be manipulated and misled. She straightened as the sand sucked at her feet. She would make Yon proud. She would do justice to his training and rise above circumstance.

 

She looked back at the roiling ocean that was lit by the soft pink of a setting sun. It was black beneath the colours and Vers could taste it on her lips. The sand was wet and cold as she pushed towards the green expanse. She would need to find shelter. She rubbed her hands over her shift. They had stripped her to her closest layer and it reeked of sweat and ash.

 

She had helped to slay many gods in the six years she had fought by Yon's side. She knew from fragments of the mythologies they had burned that some planets believed their gods acted in mysterious ways, their intentions and plans were not laid bare the way those of the Supremor were. She had always pitied such a lack of divine clarity.

 

Now though, now she understood the comfort of opacity. To believe your condition was by the mysterious workings of some grand plan. That you were not alone in your misery for each trial was a test of faith. The Supremor did not bait these traps for the Kree. Her god could not see her because Yon could not see her.

 

There was less wind once she escaped the beach and crossed the sprigged and dry dunes that tumbled into grass. The grit that scraped her feet was rubbed away by the coarse blades underfoot. She walked determinedly, convincing herself the dark violet trails that hung in the sky were the smoke from kitchen fires and just beyond the next ridge would be the comfort of a hearth.

 

She stilled as she saw a dark figure coming towards her in the low light. All of him was cast in shadow so the white of his cap seemed more brilliant. It bobbed with every footfall so it looked like a floating wisp. Salvation had been what she was looking for and yet when it was in front of her in the figure of a man, her heart stalled. The heat of starfire began to lick at her palms and she forced herself to be calm.

 

When the man drew near she could see he was dressed in a coarse spun fabric that hung to his knees over leggings. Each seam was caked in muck that had dried then stiffened the fabric. He looked like he should smell of earth but instead she was struck by fresh hay and the bitter smell of tallow. He looked at her as thoroughly as she looked at him, beneath a wrinkled brow. His eyes were dark but glittered with deep amusement. She realized he was laughing at her with his look. She tilted her chin defiantly and met his eye.

 

"So you are what scared my sheep," he said, at last, leaning heavily on the thick staff he had held tucked against his shoulder. It was thick and worn smooth, taller than him by an inch, which was no small height. She had to look up to hold his gaze. "You're damn lucky it's not tupping season and I'd lost lambs to this celestial nonsense."

 

Vers blinked, her translator was not working correctly. She could understand him and yet there were gaps in his speech of nothing words. He had lost something. If she needed shelter she could earn it by helping him.

 

"If you have lost something I can help you find it in exchange for some clothes and a place to sleep."

 

He cocked his head as if her speech came laden with the same folderol as his.

 

"Do I look like a man inclined to charity?" he asked her. He said the words slowly so her foolishness could sink in. Vers looked down at her bare feet and thin shift. It was she who had been charitable offering a service in exchange for what she could take.

 

The dark was becoming complete around them. It was cold. She was hungry and she was losing patience.

 

"Then can you direct me to someone who is inclined?"

 

The man continued to lean on his staff for a long moment. He narrowed his eyes.

 

"I don't believe in angels."

 

"What?"

 

The man straightened and began to walk away from her. She followed with long strides to keep up with his speed. He spoke without turning to look at her.

 

"My name is Fury, I earned that name on the battlefield. I want you to know now I don't believe in angels. Whatever you are, I know the skies above us are empty and I won't stand any foolishness before I can discharge you."

 

Vers laughed at him, a pitying harsh laugh full of all the ire she felt to this alien planet that was separating her from her people.

 

"Your skies are not empty and when the day of reckoning comes I suggest you kneel before it. To prevent the holy fire I have seen-"

 

Fury stopped and turned. Halting her words so they died on her lips. "What did I just say about foolishness? Keep it to yourself until you find someone interested in your brimstone shit."

 

Vers rolled her eyes as he kept walking. The set of his shoulders belied the frustration rolling off of him. As they walked in silence she began to smell campfire and clay. She paused and breathed it in, something deep inside her rolled at the smell.

 

"Where are we?"

 

"Depends who you ask," Fury answered with a shrug. "York is the most straightforward answer, but a large one. What Abbey claims our souls? Well once you're dead does it matter?"

 

Small dwellings began to form from the darkness, they were lean and low. The people in them peered out to see Fury pass with a woman in tow.

 

"Did you find out what made all that sound and light, Fury?" A woman called from a doorway.

 

"It was nothing," he answered her with a batting wave.

 

"Then who is that?" Another voice called from behind her. There was a coarse bark of laughter. "She doesn't look like one of your sheep, Fury."

 

Fury forced himself to laugh. "I say, Luke if I promise you a lamb in spring will you give me some leggings for the girl?"

 

The woman moved so a man could come to stand properly in the doorway.

 

"What does she need with leggings?"

 

"She isn't dressed, is she?"

 

"Then give her a gown."

 

"Only William's passed this last year. You'll have leggings and a shirt. Not everyone is as well-stocked as you."

 

The woman turned to her husband and whispered harshly to him. The words barely caught on the wind and Vers was surprised her translator could catch them. "Luke, Fury asks nothing lightly. We would be fools not to take a lamb when William's things will fetch us nothing but meek favours from the others."

 

She said it with a sniff and Luke laid a large hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the darkness of their hovel. He returned with a small bundle that he handed to Fury. Fury shoved it back to Vers without looking at her. She stumbled forward to grab it, curling her lip at him. Fury kept his eyes on Luke as if daring him to question who the girl was again.

 

"Thank you kindly, brother. When the lambing comes you may pick yours first."

 

Luke nodded solemnly, "I won't be letting you forget, Fury."

 

They continued passed the houses. Vers followed more closely. The clothes smelled of ash and the battlefield. Deep beneath it was the musty smell of old grass.

 

"I don't understand. Is a lamb so precious?"

 

"Everything is precious, we are not rich and our lords work us hard."

 

"And you let them?"

 

Fury turned and looked at her again. "You like to cause trouble, don't you?"

 

Vers shrugged, arching her brow. "I see what I see. You don't like these lords."

 

"And I suppose you have a better leader for us?"

 

"Of course," she smiled winningly as they stopped outside another hut. It was pitch black inside. As all the homes were, save for the hearths that lit like fireflies small circles of light.

 

"Keep it to yourself. I am coming home late on your account and I don't want to be stumbling in the dark listening to crap," he waved her into the home. She ducked beneath the lintel and stood for a moment just inside the door. She breathed in slowly and tried to find the control Yon had taught her. Her skin warmed and she knew she was glowing with light, her skin translucent red so the blue blood in her veins made a map beneath her skin. Fury cast in her light, stumbled backward, his staff dropping and his hands reaching sightlessly for the posts to brace himself.

 

She turned to him so she could see the shock in his face and revel in it. "Perhaps I have something to trade? In exchange, I need to find an altar."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saltwater

"An altar?" Fury clarified once the shock had worn away, or Vers supposed, had been drawn so deeply into him that it was buried in a place he refused to look. A place where belief was relegated when it had done nothing to stem the tide of war and death. She had seen that place reflected in the eyes of the holy warriors she had met on the battlefield. Had seen it spilled into the dirt by the quartering of their guts. "We have lots of those around here."

 

She had touched her hand to the hearth to spark the fire. Now they sat in front of it. Her in her bartered clothes and Fury leaning over a cooking pot. He had thrown a wool cloak around her shoulders without a word and she had drawn it close in matching silence.

 

"This is not the kind of altar found in a heathen church. This would have been built by my master."

 

"Your master?" Fury seemed intent on parroting back her words. She nodded.

 

"He is a great man now but when he built it he was just a foot soldier like myself."

 

"And what makes these altars so special?"

 

"They speak to god."

 

"All altars speak to god."

 

"No, this is like -" she paused looking around at the humble dwelling. This dirty place would have no equivalent. She held out her hand flat and Fury turned to look at it carefully. She gave it a significant glance and he left the pot to hover his hand above hers, a question in his eyes. "We can touch because we are in the same room. This altar makes it so anyone touching it is connected in the same room as the Supremor. They can hear us and more importantly, they can give divine messages to the Kree left to guard the Holy place."

 

Fury sat back on his haunches and turned back to tend their dinner. "And the Kree are what? Are you a Kree?"

 

Vers smiled sadly for a moment and looked at the blue threaded between the tendons of her wrist.

 

"I am not. And yet I am."

 

"That answers nothing."

 

"My master found me on a holy mission. He made me Kree through trial and prayer. He would be ashamed to hear me question it."

 

"But you do?"

 

"I question everything," she answered with a tilt of her head. Burying the concern, the questions deep inside her to her own guarded place. "I cause trouble."

 

"And the Supremor is like God? Always watching? Always judging?" He passed her a bowl filled with a foaming drink. She turned it in the firelight but the familiar smell made her confident enough to drink it.

 

"Judging? Not quite. Watching? Not exactly. When we commune through an altar we can hide no part of ourselves.  And as long as I can find an altar the Supremor will always grant me an audience."

 

"And you see the Supremor? they have a shape?"

 

"No, only my master sees them. I feel them in other ways."

 

She drank back some of what he gave her, trying to convince her cheeks not to flush at the memory of her last commune. At what euphoria had twisted up her guts.

 

He shook his finger at her, sitting back with one foot crossed in front and the other bent at the knee. "I think you do not truly know more than us. I am not sold on this God of yours."

 

"Yon could explain it better."

 

"Yon? Your master? And when is he joining us?"

 

"Once I find his altar. It could be anywhere."

 

She tried to bolster her self against the enormity of her task. The altar, if Yon had in truth been here, could be on the opposite side of the planet. And this place did not seem to have anything to aid her task. It could be years before she saw Yon again. He could be dead by then. Ronan could strike now she was far from his side. The fear something should happen to him squirmed in her guts like a snake.

 

"I know a place where you can start. It is a day's walk from here and going there won't make you friends," Fury warned.

 

"What is it?"

 

"The abbey of Ravenspur. No one goes there now," Fury lifted his brow giving her a significant look as he drank his mug. "Six years ago some pilgrims had an unpleasantness."

 

* * *

 

Q'Morobi would be left to the soldiers. His presence was no longer needed to spur the hellfire of the planet's conversion. His smaller craft had been prepared and his warship would be abandoned here.

 

On such a small ship his robes would have felt out of place, like a massive plumed jay trapped in a tiny cage. He had ordered the armour of a soldier to be brought to him. He had forgotten how the weight of his robes impeded him in battle. It was not until he was strapped by a snivelling acolyte into the chest plate and cuisse of a soldier that he remembered what it felt like to truly move unfettered.

 

It increased his determination, he would find Vers. He would burn the galaxy for her with the knowledge it was the Supremor's divine will she continue her service.

 

He stood behind his pilot in the flight cabin, he could feel the man's hesitation at having the PlusKrusade so near.

 

"We will return to TengerKhad, your grace," he said solemnly. 

 

"Not yet," Yon commanded placing an ungloved hand on the man's shoulder. He felt him flinch beneath his armour. Yon-Rogg only gripped him tighter. "We cannot return yet."

 

"Your grace?" It was an empty question open to interpretation.

 

"All aboard this ship have been selected for their discretion. I hope I chose well."

 

"You did, your grace."

 

"Then you will silently and discretely set our course away from Tengerkhad," Yon spoke gently but he knew the weight of his words descended heavily on the pilot.

 

"And the rest of your guard?"

 

"They will travel to my holy seat and await my return, but first the Supremor has sent me on a pilgrimage."

 

He only had the coordinates of the first point the tiny stinging ship that had taken Vers had jumped to, but it was a start and with the guidance of the Supremor he would find their trail again.

 

He had not been on a mission alone like this in many years since he had gone to C 53 to find the traitor. The Supremor had come to him in a vision at the altar, more sensation than sight, and told him he had been chosen for a journey. It had been the first sign to Yon-Rogg that they had planned to elevate him above his station. That the Supremor had a plan for him.

 

He had arrived on the shore in a small cloaked craft. He often wondered if Mar-Vell in all her wild-eyed paranoia had had some early warning of his coming. She had not made herself hard to find. She left no trace of her location from signal scans or records, but on that lonely little dirt planet, there was one force she could not disguise. Heat, heat like holy fire that poured off her unholy creation. She had tried to drown it in the ocean and let the black saltwater steal it away. That was sufficient for containment but not for disguise. If anything it meant he knew where the device was hidden once he reached her.

 

He had approached wrapped in heavy robes to hide the glint of his armour. Two blades were strapped beneath the volume of fabric. He had been instructed to bring Mar-Vell back to Hala, alive and he would not fail.

* * *

 

The Abbey of Ravenspur was not how she imagined. Though she could have no way of knowing what this planet held, as the tall building came into view with its long blue glass windows and worn sandstone brick she could almost imagine she was on Hala once again. It had none of the grandeur of Tengerkhad, nor did it press against the sky as their buildings did but it was like Hala in miniature. It was perched as Tengerkhad was on a sheer cliff that dropped into an inlet below. The rolling waves of the ocean would sweep into the caves in the cliff and she could hear their howling.

 

She could not contain herself as she ran forward, her feet slipping in the makeshift shoes that Fury had bartered another lamb for, his cloak kept sliding down to cover her eyes.

 

"I wouldn't run towards it like that," Fury called in warning as the ground was eaten up beneath Vers' feet. She turned to look at him to ask why when there was a _thwip_ of a bolt and an arrow plunged into the earth in front of her. Vers stumbled and looked up at the turret in confusion. Fury caught up to her leaning in close to her ear. "That is why."

 

Vers pulled the arrow from the ground and felt beneath her fingers the familiar weight of Kree steel. She turned it in the low afternoon light and it glinted blue and green along the shaft.

 

"This is Kree," she called to Fury's back as she tried to catch up. Fury stopped a distance from the abbey and tied his cap by its liripipe to his staff. He waved it in the air. "The Kree have been here."

 

"You don't say," he said ironically as he waved. No more arrows came so he stepped closer raising his voice against the sounds of the sea. "Sister, a word?"

 

He pulled the cap back on his head and kept walking. As they reached the doors, large and wooden, one was hauled open with its hinges crying. A woman leaned in the doorway, a hood pulled up over her head and her legs clad in leather. A bow rested against her leg.

 

"I will give you three, Nicholas. Burn in hell."

 

Fury laughed, but it was not empty as it had been with Luke. This woman had his respect.

 

"Sister, do not be like this. I have brought a friend. You are embarrassing me."

 

"Your friend is who makes me nervous."

 

"She is new. Doesn't know our ways," Fury smiled at her, trying to win her over. The woman just arched her heavy brow and looked at him as if all creation was laid before her and she found him, in particular, wanting. "Let us in, Maria."

 

"There is nothing left here. While you were off fighting your wars Ravenspur abbey fell."

 

"I had not yet come to this land, you cannot hold me at fault you were not adequately guarded," Fury's voice hitched like steel was threaded through wool. Soft and low but barbed.

 

"And when you did come you brought only sheep," Maria narrowed her eyes at him. She turned her head to look inside the abbey, a view that was blocked by her and the door. She made a small gesture with her bow hand against her leg.

 

"Is someone else there, Maria?" Fury asked carefully. Maria's head snapped back to him.

 

"No," she said flatly brooking no argument. "Who is your friend?"

 

"An Angel," Fury answered her with a mischievous grin as he shoved Vers forward.

 

Her hood fell back as she jerked against his rough handling. There was a clatter as the woman dropped her bow. Her eyes and mouth were wide as she stared at her. Vers tilted her head like a bird. Unsure what to do or say.

 

"Carol?" The name seemed wrenched from her throat as she took a small step forward. Her hand extended almost as if she did not believe Vers was real. Fury's eyes moved from one to the other.

 

"You know her?"

 

There was a creak as the door was shoved open away from Maria's stunned body. A small girl appeared, her hair was windblown as if she had been up on the turret as well. She gasped, pulling air into her small chest. Her breath and the swift movement of her body towards Vers woke Maria from her stupor. Her hand moved quickly to catch the back of the little girl's gown.

 

"She is dead."

 

"I told you, an angel," Fury answered pushing passed Maria to enter the abbey beyond the doors.

 

* * *

 

Talos gasped as his head broke the water. The salt stung his wound as hot and as sharp as a knife lodged in the muscle once more. He looked around him as he struggled to keep his head above the waves that made him bob and sink over and over. His clothed threatened to pull him to the bottom once more.

 

Around him, his four brothers also broke the surface. With all his men accounted for he could strike out and swim towards the shore, where half-buried by the tide the sixth pod stood like the black marker of a grave.


	10. Chapter 10

The abbey beyond the doors was crumbling. The roof and walls at one end of the transept were scorched and there was a hole showing blue sky. The floor had a similar opening as if a flaming spear had been thrust from the lower levels up towards the heavens.

 

The soft beige of the sandstone was painted in blue flecks from the sun coming through the windows.

 

An uncomfortable feeling crept beneath Vers' skin, like beetles scuttling from between her ribs and finding purchase in her muscles ans tendons. She could blame the similarness of the architecture or the Kree steel she still held in her hand but she felt she had seen this place before.

 

"This is not some unpleasantness with a pilgrim," Fury enunciated as he circled the stones at the edge of the hole.

 

"He wasn't really a pilgrim," Maria said coldly as her eyes stayed on Vers. "Pilgrims don't normally carry weapons like that."

 

"Two swords?" Vers asked forcing the breath that wanted to stay low in her belly passed her lips. Maria nodded and Vers looked to Fury. "Yon was here. There will be an altar."

 

"Were you here when he came?" Fury asked Maria. She nodded.

 

"He meant no harm. He is a messenger," Vers turned to look at the woman who called her Carol. To implore her with her eyes to understand that the Supremor choosing their planet was a gift.

 

"I didn't get that impression," Maria answered her looking to the hole in the floor and tilting her chin so her eyes followed invisible flames to the hole in the roof.

* * *

The building had looked as if it had been transported from Hala. Yon wondered that more of these mud people did not come to gawk at it.

 

He received his answer when an arrow struck the ground in front of his feet. It had come from a turret battlement. He could tell by part of the shaft not buried in the earth that it was Kree. He laughed to himself, Mar-Vell the fool had armed these animals. She may have taken a vow against bloodshed, against the will of the Surpremor, yet she had no qualms asking someone else to do it on her behalf.

 

Yon hunched low to look small and raised his hands.

 

"I look only for food and shelter. Is this not a Holy place?" He called loudly from the ground. Could marksman hear him?

 

A head covered by a red hood popped over the low battlement.

 

"This is not the place for pilgrims, brother," her voice called back. It was lifted by the saltwater air and nearly drowned by the crash of waves into the inlet.

 

"Water then?" He called, "anything to get me to my next shelter."

 

He walked closer and she raised her bow as if contemplating his honesty. Yon-Rogg focused on hunching lower, looking less threatening.

 

"Water then," she answered lowering her weapon. Yon-Rogg had bit his cheek to stop the pleasure of her foolishness rising in his chest. This was a simple hurdle. Barely of importance in his task. Should Mar-Vell be away he would likely have to kill all the heathens beyond the doors to wait out her return. Or they would die in her capture. Tricking one should not be so satisfying.

 

She met him at the door with a clay pitcher, her hood pushed back it was the first time he had seen her golden hair. The moment stuck in his memory though they would share many years in close conact.

 

"Where is your cup, brother?" She asked as he lowered his hood. He had wanted to look at her properly without hindrance. He wondered if she knew her eyes widened as she looked at him. The subtle dilation of her pupils. As if she were drawing him in. He placed his hands in front of him.

 

"I have none. My hands will do."

 

She looked uncertain as she stepped slightly closer to him and poured the water into his hands. It was cold and found the seams of his fingers easily. He lowered his head to drink it quickly. Making himself vulnerable to her if she wanted to strike him, but like a soft unguarded thing she just watched him.

 

He looked up at her wiping the damp from his mouth. He held her eyes and he wondered if she would simply let him through the doors if he applied enough pressure. The correct pressure.

 

"Will you satisfy my curiousity why a place of worship allows no pilgrims?"

 

She hesitated so he held his hands up again. She poured more water into his palms.

 

"Not Pilgrims of your sort, Brother," she answered him. He looked up at her as he drank from his hands. Her answer would have been opaque had he been of her world, but Yon-Rogg knew too much. She tried to close the door on him. "Good travels."

 

He caught the edge, her eyes narrowed as the strength in his hand threatened to splinter the wood.

 

"Let me pray."

 

"No." She tried to push the door out of his grasp but it would not budge. He felt her strength though, pressing into his palm. She was strong for a heathen.

 

"Do not let him in," Mar-Vell's voice rang out. The girl turned her head for a split second as Yon-Rogg snarled hearing the traitor. "Barricade the door."

 

She surprised him by throwing the pitcher of water against his head. He let go for the scantest second as cold water bled beneath his armour wicking into his hair shirt. The pottery must have cut him for he felt warmth dripping from his temple and she looked shocked. More shocked than when his strength had vibrated through the door.

 

The door slammed and he would have beat it down except he could hear the hiss of pneumatic locks and knew it would be a waste of time. He took off towards the cliffs. Mar-Vell's cleverness meant the sea water must have a way in. He would follow it.

* * *

Maria took them beneath the abbey. She left her daughter upstairs peering eagerly into the hole in the floor, waiting for them to reappear below.

 

The cavern was damp with the ocean waves that lapped inside. Bridges had been built to keep them above the water. They were rickety and in disrepair.

 

"Where were you that day?" Fury asked as he sidled carefully on the creaking bridges.

 

"When he came I was preparing to ride to the Pilgrims. Abbess Marvel bid me leave quickly with my supplies and to warn them of danger. Like a coward I took my daughter and fled. Carol and the Abbess bore his violence alone." Maria hung her head as she spoke. The weight of her shame pulling her down. Vers could not explain why she longed to comfort her. She swallowed the desire. A familiar practice for her.

 

"So you don't know what he wanted?"

 

Maria had reached the centre platform. It was more unstable than the others as half was burned and falling into the water below. The chamber made of glass reached down into the water. It was cracked and charred inside. The source of explosion. Melted to the glass was a silver blade broken at the hilt.

 

"No. When I returned the Abbey was in flames and Abbess Marvel was dead with crossing slashes down her back."

 

"Two blades," Fury offered and Maria nodded.  
Vers was staring at the sword. She braced her foot against the railing and lifted herself to get a closer look. Fury sighed, "you trying to die again?"

 

"That is what is left of Carol's sword."

 

"How do you know it was hers?" Vers asked leaning forward even more precariously.

 

"The words barely survived but from the hilt to tip it was inscribed "Oversee with mercy". That was Carol's belief. She was strong. She made trouble but she always wanted to be merciful. To see the good even as she was forced to defend it. She never wanted to lose herself in the bloodshed."

 

Beneath her feet the wood cracked and Vers tipped forward. She felt her skin crackle as she began to catch herself on instinct alone. Her palms when they slammed into the glass were lit with holyfire. She panted for a moment in relief, her breath fogging the cracked surface. Then there was a whirring sound and the chamber began to glow.

 

"That thing is waking up," Fury called to Maria who was already backing away. "I would get away from it."

 

"Hold on," Vers called as something glinted below them, emerging from the water like near invisible tentacles. They slithered quickly up the glass towards her. "I know what this is."

 

As the filaments reached her and twisted about her wrists the world began to turn white at the edges. Above her, Vers thought she heard the word "mama".

* * *

Yon had spent the remainder of the journey in prayer. He knelt before his private altar with his fingers spread wide upon the chrome. He was ready and waiting for the smallest direction from the Supremor to complete the charting of their course. If he felt pain in his limbs from holding one attitude then he merely retreated farther into himself. He sang the prayers of his people in ancient Kree with greater fervour.

 

"Yon?" His head snapped up, his eyes closed for so long were out of focus and he blinked away the blurring lines. Only one person still uttered his name.

 

"Vers?" His throat was hoarse as he called for her. A single filament snaked from the altar and wrapped around his wrist. It held him as if it were his lifeline to her. "Vers where are you?"

 

"Skrulls-" her words were cut off and she was fading in and out like she called to him from the bottom of a pond. "-took me home."

 

The connection ended abruptly and Yon filled with rage shoved himself away from the altar. His cramping muscles barely held him as he swayed and his throat ached with a howl that would not break free of his teeth.

 

He knew where she was and everything they had worked towards was in jeopardy.

* * *

Fury had never seen anything like the figure that had grabbed hold of the little girl. Squat and green he looked like a demon as he clutched her. Debris landed with a splash as her small feet kicked out. Maria cried out in shock and fear as he held the girl too close to the edge.

 

Footsteps echoed on the stairs and four more monsters pushed onto the rickety bridges. The one in front favoured his one side as he gripped in his opposite hand a fat blade made of black metal. Fury raised his hands.

 

"We are unarmed. What are you doing?"

 

"Forgive me but you are far from helpless if you have her," he pointed with his sword at Carol. She was suspended above the bridge wrapped in glowing wires, her eyes rolled back.

 

"She is busy," Fury said glancing between them. "Let the little girl go."

 

The child cried out as the beast that had her hung her a little farther out. He called down, "poor choice of words, Terran."

 

The beast with the sword look up at the sound and growled. "Ardis we talked about this. Use your head and bring the wench down here."

 

The girl disappeared as Ardis grunted. The leader held up his hands. "Lets be calm. I am cutting her down before she gets us all killed."

 

"She gets us killed?" Fury repeated pointing at Carol.

 

"Why are you doing this?" Maria's voice shook but she looked on the demon faced man with no fear. He walked passed them on the shaking wood bridge and swung hard into the silver tendrils that held Carol. They sparked and retreated like injured animals. Her body fell and the structure groaned.

 

"Forgive Ardis, it has been a long journey. We are not the men who began it."

 

Ardis appeared at the door and the struggling girl kicked free. She ran to her mother, shoving her way fearlessly between the beasts' bodies.

 

"Brave little whelp you have there," the leader commented as Carol stirred.

 

"Yours is too," Maria said coldly. Her anger seethed beneath her skin. The leader who had been so collected flinched slightly. His body still but the smallest, desparate twitch of his face.

 

"You know that?" He asked with a tight throat. Maria nodded again, her eyes holding his. "For certain?"

 

Carol pushed upright from the ground, her skin glowing and her palms burning red.

 

"Maria, Fury, get behind me," she snarled as she held the leader's eyes. He tensed bringing up his sword again.

 

Maria let go of her daughter and pushed her way in front of them. She faced Carol whose eyes glowed so blue she seemed blinded.

 

"Carol, Carol listen to me. This isn't you. This isn't our fight."

 

"Maria they are evil," heat poured off Vers and her voice was tense from containing her power.

 

"The Carol I knew didn't believe that of anybody. I don't know how you are doing this but you must stop."

 

"What did that altar do to her?" Fury asked. Hedging closer, unsure how to intervene.

 

"That isn't an altar," the leader nearly spat. His face was lit by the starfire. He faced it boldly. "It belongs to the Skrulls."

 

"What in the name of salvation is happening?" Fury demanded.

 

"The truth is there is a war coming. Now the Kree know we are here there is no time. We have to leave or this world will burn too. She knows it's the truth. Even if she is deceived about everything else."

 

Vers closed her eyes and stumbled back. She had been filled with righteous anger, but imagining this place burning. This peaceful green place. Something deep inside her was sick with it.

 

"Where did that light come from?" Maria asked, coming forward to catch Vers. She found herself leaning into Maria's embrace.

 

"The Supremor gave it to me," she said into the crook of Maria's neck. The Skrull scoffed.

 

"Another lie, girl. That light is from Mar-Vell. It was meant to end the war not sit deep in your guts for you to threaten us."

 

"No," Vers insisted. "That isn't true."

 

"You say that a lot for someone with no answers of their own," the leader turned to her. His lip curling.

 

"How was that supposed to end your war?" Fury interrupted, pointing at the shattered chamber.

 

"My wife could explain it better, but Mar-Vell dreamed of a ship so powerful we could travel farther and faster than the Kree could hope to follow in a generation. Allow us to grow our people again."

 

"Travel as in?" Fury pointed heavenward and the Skrull nodded.

 

"I do not look like man of your planet, do I?"

 

"None I have met, but it's a wide place."

 

"You are Talos, aren't you?" Maria asked.

 

"Yes," he turned to her. "Even if my hope for the engine is gone. I have come for our people. We will continue this fight together."

 

"Maria, don't listen to them. Yon is coming he will explain it."

 

"We need to leave," Talos insisted.

 

"Carol, do you remember any of it? Do you remember living here?"

 

Vers pushed away from Maria. "Stop calling me that. My name is Vers and I am a foot soldier for the Holy Army of the Supremor."

 

"Doesn't this place feel familiar? Doesn't it make you doubt?" Talos needled her.

 

"You know nothing about me," she snarled as she shoved passed the Skrulls and Fury. She fled up the stairs. Maria went to follow but Fury held up his hand.

 

"Let her go. If she thinks her Master is coming to this altar, she won't go far."

 

Maria sagged under his advice. She knew he was right but she wanted to ease her sister's pain. Or shake her until the memories came loose and Maria did not have to suffer alone. She reached for her daughter and gathered the girl against her.

 

"I will make dinner. It's not a journey to take at night. We will leave at first light."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added a chapter because I am not quite as far as I hoped but I will catch up.
> 
> Happy Birthday AnonymousMink 💜💜💜
> 
> I could not write a word without your love and support and even during this hard time when all I want to do is quit, you keep me strong with your enthusiasm and love.
> 
> I owe you my heart and my labour. Which I do not offer easily
> 
> 💜❤💙💚DH

Vers had huddled in the fallen debris on the back side of the abbey. Touching her hand to dry brush shoved in a hollow made of stones she had lit a small fire that gave her no heat but enough light that ghoulish shadows painted the rubble. She wrapped Fury's cloak tighter and fought the urge to be sick. She was a warrior for the Supremor, the Holy Guard of the PlusKrusade and the protege of the greatest warrior Hala had produced in a generation. She was stronger than this.

 

And yet she wasn't. When Yon had said she was Kree through penance he said it with deference. He reassured her and lifted her even as he broke her over and over to make her stronger. He was as a master the fine line between strength and softness. Pain and affection. And yet she had doubted, she had been plagued by her uncertainty and it had stopped her from truly ascending. It would make so much sense if it was because Yon had lifted her from this clay planet. Clay that was soft and malleable. That crumbled or washed away in extreme conditions unless it was transformed by fire.

 

A shadow crossed her and she turned her head to see Maria hovering at the edge of the fire's light. She held a bowl in one hand and a book in the other.

 

"So, this is where you came to sulk," she observed stepping into the ring of meager warmth cast by the flames.

 

"I am not sulking," Vers defended. She picked up small pebbles and tossed them towards the rock walls.

 

"Are you praying? Do I disrupt your solitude?" Maria quirked her brow as she sat on a pile of rubble and kicked out her feet.

 

"You do not know me well enough to mock me," Vers growled with her mouth in a hard line. "It appears I do not know myself."

 

"You are my sister," Maria answered, shoving the bowl of food into Vers' hands. She grimaced even though it looked better than Fury's offering the night before. "You took me from the Lord's manor and brought me to the Abbess. You trusted me to guard the Pilgrims. You died protecting our mission. And I have prayed every night to wake up from this nightmare where you were no longer by my side. To have them answered-"

 

Maria's words petered out and she glanced away from the fire. Vers could feel the tidal pull of her emotions. It tugged on the forgotten piece inside her that had been clawing at her ribs since she landed. She reached her hand up and Maria, still looking away, grasped it hard. She held Vers as if she were a lifeline.

 

"If what the Skrull said was true, if what you say is the truth then it casts all my memories as a fraud. That I first guarded the Skrulls and then hunted them. I have made a weapon from a tool of salvation. What soldier of honour could bear that revelation?"

 

"I have brought you something," Maria passed Vers the book she had tucked on her lap. "The Abbess' book. I do not know my letters but these are unlike what will be found in any other book of accounts."

 

Vers opened the tome and her heart sunk. Falling down the page like links in a chain were Kree glyphs. She shut it again, unwilling to attempt to translate. It did not matter, if the Kree had come here once, if the Abbess had aided the Skrulls then it was all true.

 

"I expected to find the Skrulls heathens, and beasts. They had rejected the Supremor and were purged by holy wrath. What made the Abbess risk so much to help them?"

 

Without thinking Vers leaned her head toward Maria, who looked at her again. She stroked her hair in a loving familiar way.

 

"The Abbess spoke of peace. She knew no verses from our own bible, but she had that book. She read from it with the same devotion others would carry a book of hours. She called it the covenant. She tried to explain it to us but we could not begin to understand. Maybe, my sister reborn, now you are made to understand it."

 

The tome took on a new light to Vers, its weight in her lap felt different. She traced the cover and felt it more carefully beneath her fingers. To the Terrans it must feel of leather, the smoothness and the way it held the warmth of your hand. It was not. It was wood. Thin veneers of sentikor, a tree that grew on Hala. A mystical species that had been brought to near extinction by the Kree as the Supremor deemed it necessary in all their structures and items. Tengerkhad was full of it. She traced the grains she could find with the thin edge of her fingernail. Yon's bed was carved from it. The wood held heat for hours after it had been touched. It was a common gift between intended youths, to carve a small shape from Sentikor and clutch it in your hand until the trinket could be given. The object of your affection received not just the token but the heat of your blood. More sacred to Kree than the wood.

 

It made her homesick and to her shame it made her yearn for her master. The book under her fingers held the heat of being pressed to Maria's side. Vers contemplated lifting the book and holding it to her cheek.

 

"You should eat more and think less," Maria coaxed. She watched her silently as one might a doe they feared scaring away. Vers turned her attention back to her meal. She found she did not have the stomach to eat.

 

"You waste meat on me," she murmured.

 

"Do angels not eat?" Maria retorted. Her hand found Vers' hair again. She feared this kindness would be addicting and she would not want to leave again when she had to. When Yon came and she would go with him. She would return to his side without hesitation, for while she had doubts and misgivings about their ultimate master leaving Yon was impossible.

 

He could make this all make sense. Provide the perspective required to forgive her past and find harmony with her current mission. Or make her forget. Perhaps he had that power. To erase all this, so like a coward she was spared the burden.

 

"I am not an angel."

 

"Then you have no reason not to eat."

 

Vers hesitated. There was a question burning in her she longed to have answered before she had to face her master again.

 

"Do you believe there is a pinacle where we are beyond deception? Is it possible to always fundamentally misunderstand even when blessed with all the conviction and knowledge to make the correct decision?"

 

Maria tilted her head and allowed the question to seep into her. Vers knew she was capable of reading between her words to what she was truly asking.

 

"I think that if God chose to obscure the truth, it would be hubris to believe a mortal man could untangle it simply because he had the conviction to do good. A trial is not the same, if your god is not attempting to test the morality of your master but is creating a new truth in the universe, how could you find fault with his belief?"

 

Vers nodded. It was what she hoped to hear and yet it did not comfort her.

 

"And when confronted by God's deception, who is the sinner? The one who calls it deception and defies God's will, the one who hears and does nothing, or the one who hears and turns against God? Is there a truth that exists beyond God?"

 

"Take a bite of dinner and I will tell you," Maria answered. Like a child, Vers grumbled and picked up her spoon. She shoved a large bite into her mouth, her eyes turned up at Maria as she chewed. "We are all sinners."

 

Vers choked down her food as she tried to swallow around a laugh. "That is no answer."

 

"You live in a world of many gods. I live in a world of one. Even the Abbess did not speak in terms of God. She spoke of peace, truth and mercy as you do now. Read her book and sit in peace with General Talos. These are not tides we can turn alone."

 

Maria stood to leave her, but Vers called out. "When your friend was alive, which one of you was the wise one?"

 

Maria smiled as she left. "Me."

 

"Did she listen to you?" Vers called taking another spoonful of dinner.

 

"No," Maria laughed as she continued into the Abbey.

* * *

By the time they made the final jump into C 53's galaxy Yon was nearly feral with concern. The Supremor had been achingly silent after they had connected their minds. And Vers had disappeared suddenly from the connection. He was an abandoned wild animal, he secluded himself in his chambers under the guise of prayer. It was a lie. Even if he had had the patience, the words would not come. The songs of the ancient covenant held no meaning to him in his current state. He could think of no phrasing that would coax peace into his heart.

 

She would be misled if she returned with the Skrulls. She would not understand. He had always planned to finish what they had begun. To return with her. He had in his dreams intended the half complete altar in the ruins of Mar-Vell's cloister to be Vers' first. He would teach her the craft of conquering, truly and completely, there on the planet that had birthed her but had been insufficient to contain her glory.

 

She would be revered as the mother of a new world. First on this backward rock and then throughout the universe. He would bend what they thought possible to spread her glory and by extension the glory of the Supremor to even farther edges of the known into the unknown.

 

His comm beeped and he barely composed himself enough to form words rather than snarling in answer.

 

"We are in orbit, PlusKrusade," a timid voice answered him. His body thrummed. He reached for his swords, well cared for in the absence of his need for them. Vers had kept them up, pouring long hours of effort into maintaining his blades even when he should never have cause to lift them again.  
He did now.

 

"We Land at the given coordinates, then instruct the crew to enter a standard sleep cycle," Yon-Rogg answered them.

 

"Is that wise, your grace? You will be alone-"

 

"Alone on pilgrimage. This is not my command but the command of the Supremor."

 

There was silence before his command was met with agreement. Yon had never considered his elevation would weaken his position. That those beneath him would mistake his importance for fragility. He tried to shake the creeping fear that his command was not as infallible as it seemed.

 

The dawn when they landed was cool and he could not help but remember the last day he stood here. It had been only six years ago, a blink of an eye in their lifetimes but he felt he had lived many ages since then.

 

They had landed close to the abandoned place but kept themselves cloaked. He did not care if these heathens saw them. The Kree would bring greater miracles to their skies sooner rather than later, but if the Skrulls had Vers at their mercy he would not risk her safety with early detection.

 

No attack met his approach. The place was either abandoned or they meant to draw him in with a false sense of security.

 

He pushed the doors open easily and heard their protesting echo through the ruined building. He could, if he closed his eyes, still smell the starfire that had burnt the hole from the caves below through the rafters. He walked to the edge of the yawning maw, his ears pricking for any sound but the echo of his own boots. The silence pressed against his ears.

 

He looked below and saw the dark water lapping at the shattered chamber. There was nothing here in the main chamber. That made sense. It would be too hard to defend if he brought an army. Only Vers knew that he would come alone.

 

That left the small rooms off the transept. Of the two, one side had been damaged by fire. The other side then.

 

He crossed the main chamber as silently as possible, aware that they would still hear his boots and the shifting of his armour. They would expect him.

 

He paused outside the door and listened. He heard no sound inside. His hand found the latch as his opposite hand reached for the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak. He tensed, gripping both and eased the door open as silently as possible.

 

A solitary figure sat behind a wide desk, littered with parchment and books. Behind on a bench were crude instruments mixed with items he recognized as Kree. Their chrome standing out against the rough hewn pieces of C 53 technology. She was reading a book. It was open in front of her and she turned one crisp thin page as delicately as if it was made of tissue. It was not. It was silk, made from a helgentar species of arachnid. It was incredibly light and unbelievably durable. A sword honed to its sharpest point could not penetrate a book so thick with it. She looked up when he entered the room. She smiled.

 

"I knew you would come."

 

"Did you?" He asked lowly, his voice rumbling between them. She nodded as she looked down at her book again. He approached her slowly. Watching her turn the page with reverence. She was studying each glyph with earnest interest. Her finger delicately tracing an illumination, hovering just above. The ghost of a touch. His heart clenched watching how careful she was. How precise. He needed to be closer to her. "How did you know?"

 

She looked up at him, her face full of devotion. Love and relief playing without hesitation across her features.

 

"I know we are meant to be beside each other."

 

"Are we?" It sounded more breathless and yearning than he meant to allow. He was in front of the desk now. She was perfection. Her skin, her hair, and the smell of her. Fire and flesh.

 

"Of course. We share blood. You are my master." She uncurled herself and stood with her fingers brushing the desk. "Shall we leave?"

 

"Tell me first, how did you escape the Skrulls?"

 

"They are weak. You made me strong. It was barely an obstacle," she crinkled her nose at him. "Where is the ship?"

 

"We can't leave yet," he answered her.

 

"Why not?"

 

"There is something we must do here first," he whispered to her across the space between them. Intimate, inviting.

 

"What is that?" She leaned closer to him curiousity lighting up her eyes.

He drew his blade and pressed it beneath her chin. "You must tell me who are you? And where is Vers?"

 

He barely got the question out before he felt a garrote catch his throat and haul him backward against an armoured chest. Incredible strength gripped him and he began to see stars at the corner of his vision.

 

"I see she was half right about you," a clipped voice purred in his ear as he dropped his blade and slammed his hands trying to break his attacker's grip. "She said you would not walk into our trap if we used a sim."

 

"Where is she?" Yon croaked as he began to slip down the Skrull's body. His vision was going black. The Skrull laughed.

 

"You'll see her soon. Remember I showed you more mercy than you would have shown me."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consummation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning Yonverinos!
> 
> Happy Saturday.
> 
> This post is a mess but it's done. And by done I mean on the internet.
> 
> Speaking of done enough for the internet
> 
> [A Kinder Shore](https://swoonreads.com/m/a-kinder-shore/) My book has been added to SwoonReads competition.  
> If you liked Persuaded here is your chance to read it again or maybe leave me a like or review! It would mean so much and could help me get published ❤💚💙💜DH

He looked peaceful. Like an effigy atop a tomb. Talos had taken his weapons, but left his armour. It added to the effect. She was worried he was uncomfortable, stretched out on the pallet with steel digging into him.  
She had been hovering near the door since Talos and the others had parted with her in the underground caverns. She felt lost and alone in this strange place with only her sleeping master to watch over. She longed for industry to distract her scurrying thoughts. Peace through labour as Yon had first taught her at Tengerkhad. 

 

She was uncomfortable without a task in thia high ceilinged chamber. Maria said this had been Carol's room. Vers had no familiarity with it. The only window was high and thin, the light came in but it was limited. There was no comfort here. No personal effects. Much like her room on Tengerkhad, Carol would have only slept here. 

 

She moved closer to him. They were alone. Maria, Fury and the Skrulls had set off to collect the Pilgrims. They would leave the child at a safe place along the way. Vers had been trusted to guard Yon.

 

Talos was offering her without words the chance to escape. A test of her new found conflict of conscience.

 

She had considered it. Going to Yon's ship, returning to Hala and Tengerkhad but she knew she could no longer serve the Supremor. Even if she believed Yon was a righteous man who had been misled.

 

She breathed deeply before moving to the end of the bed. She started at his greaves, removing them to expose his leggings and his boots. She lay them reverently on the floor at her feet. She bent one leg so she could remove the boot. She kept glancing at his face, expecting each time to see his gold eyes looking at her. Each rise and fall of his chest assured her he was alive but she worried that he did not wake. She took one boot in hand she stretched her arm out as far as she could and let it fall onto the slate floor with a loud thud. His eyelashes did not so much as flutter.

 

She removed the other boot and threw it across the floor. He remained still.

 

She hesitated. She had never done this when he was asleep before. She shifted slightly on the mattress and leaned forward. She did not dare hover over him or straddle his leg to give better access. Instead like a hesitant fool she stayed at his feet and almost lay her body over his thighs. Her hands reaching for the top buckle of his left cuisse, high on his thigh and tight to the inside of his leg. She was stretched too far to be nimble with her fingers. She braced her opposite hand against his right thigh so she could tug the leather strap.

 

She had only a split second of warning. The fleeting tensing of muscle beneath her fingers and the clinking of chains before she found her hand caught in his iron grip.

 

"Would you prefer I stand up?" He growled at her. Heat immediately raised all over her body. She tried to pull away but he held her too tightly. She was trapped stretched over his legs, her body bent too far forward. Her hand pressed uselessly to the inside of his thigh. She could feel his heart beat through the muscle there. She wished she had the ability to resolve into the air. His voice commanded her as she struggled. "Finish what you started."

 

He said it with such barely contained anger she could not decide if he meant the stripping of his armour or the attempt against his life.

 

"The chains on your wrists aren't so short you can't do it yourself," she grit as she tried to twist her hand away from him again. She moved her free hand to dig into the sensitive joining of his hip and twist the tendons there. He groaned and sat up dragging her by her wrist upward again.

 

"Do you no longer serve me? Am I not your master? That filthy Skrull addressed me as such."

 

She was close to him now, one had braced against his hip while the other tugged between them. This was not the reunion she pictured. Though she could think of no other meeting, not after the night she had spent in contemplation. Their heavy breaths found rhythm together so they both drew the air tight between them. She could not string words together in a way that did not ache so she reach between their grinding bodies. She ran her hand along the inside of his thigh, fingers questing for a buckle.

 

To her surprise, he flinched and his grip softened.

 

"What are you doing?" He demanded, his eyes glancing between their bodies.

 

"You bid me finish. I am finishing," she answered with a firm mouth and a quirk of her eyebrow.

 

"Vers, this is nonsense. Why are you undressing me when we should be leaving?"

 

"You wouldn't wake, I wanted you to be comfortable," she defended, her hand pulling the leather free of the buckle slowly. His gripped tightened as she moved to the next, her fingers dragging along the seam of his leggings. His grip tightened around her wrist again.

 

"I am awake now."

 

"Did you come alone?" She asked, forcing her eyes from the intensity of his gaze to glance between their bodies.

 

He gripped her chin with his other hand, forcing her to meet his eyes again. "Don't look at me."

 

Her hand moved to his other thigh, hampered and awkward.

 

"You don't need your armour. I am here. I will protect you until all is settled."

 

"How can I trust you when they have me in chains because of your deception?" He demanded it, low and rough. He shoved her away, releasing his hold on her in disgust.

 

"Talos has you in chains because you did not properly survey your surroundings," she argued back. Her hand freed she could make quick work of his other thigh guard. Now he was awake she moved confidently over him and attacked the straps with all the frustration she felt. Yon leaned away from her back onto his elbows. He snarled his lip.

 

"Is it Talos now? You have given these heathens names?" He spat the accusation at her. She parted the fastenings on his right thigh quickly.

 

"Our enemies have always had names," Vers huffed. She shuffled on her knees, moving suddenly up his body so she straddled his left thigh and attacked the belt at his waist. He curled upward again to stop her hands.

 

"I told you not to look at me," he growled. His hands holding her wrists, their faces were very close.

 

"What possesses you?" She asked, her eyes searching his face for some explanation. He was more wild than the man she had grown used to. Almost as her first hazy memories of him when he had seemed uncertain of their beginning. Uncertain his course was the correct one.

 

"I am possessed by distrust. I question your fealty. To me. To the Supremor. Your mind seems turned and at the mercy of our ancient enemy."

 

Vers was silent too long, her eyes lowered and she saw clearly the dark purple welt of Talos' attack. She softened and as if sensing that weakening in her, he released her. She brought her hands to his throat and brushed her fingers over his bruise. He watched her, his jaw tense and his eyes narrowed as she explored the abused flesh.

 

"Shall I call you 'Master' and put your mind at ease?" She asked softly.

 

"Do not toy with me Vers."

 

"I am not toying with you, Master," she answered. Yon shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of her. "I have been waiting for you to explain this to me."

 

"Explain what?" He asked with a tight throat as he tilted his chin on instinct. She unclasped his cloak and pushed it off his shoulders, her body leaning into him. She was aware of the thinness of her shirt as the cold steel of his chest plate pressed into her. "I did not come here to barter for loyalty that should already be mine."

 

"Master-"

 

He caught her jaw stopping her words. "Say it without the laughter in your voice. Stop mocking me."

 

"Yon," she breathed as he released her. Her tone shifted and she lifted her weight off of him and returned to kneel at the end of the bed. "Please tell me the truth. Tell me what to do with the doubt in me."

 

His hands moved to the front fastening of his thigh guards. He slipped free the strap with the rustling of chains on the pallet.

 

"If this is what will ease you," he answered her. His hands moved to the buckles along his ribs. She crawled closer to him again to unfasten the plates at his shoulders.

 

Together they removed the last of his armour and placed the plates scraping and clanking on the floor. He reached for her then and tilted her head. His other hand brushed her hair gently aside. He was looking for damage. Any sign they had meddled with her. She let him explore her, worrying he could feel the way she trembled beneath his kind touch. She was aware of his restraints too, hampering his movements.

 

"What fools would leave us together?"

 

"I asked them to. I knew you would not leave this to the warriors. I knew it would be you who would come. I bartered that when you came they left us."

 

"To what end? Why did they take you just to let you go? To let us both go?"

 

"Talos has seen the doubt in me. He knows- he has known since Torfa that-"

 

"Torfa?" He tensed again. Torfa had been weeks ago. Vers hung her head. She was so close to him. Closer than they had been in so long. To his shame he cared more for where their bodies pressed together than hunting down their enemies who had left them here.

 

"I thought his voice was an angel. I thought at last I was beginning to understand," her voice cracked as she confessed to him.

 

"We can find the answer together. You were chosen by the Supremor-"

 

Vers shook her head, retreating from the bed. Out of habit she began to clean away the pile of armour at their feet.

 

"No more lies, Yon. No more interpretations through scripture and belief. I found the altar. I know you were here and I know there was another here. Tell me what happened not what the Supremor desired."

 

"I was here," he admitted. "I was given a mission by the Supremor. It was how I knew one day I would be PlusKrusade. Until I failed. Then it all became uncertain."

 

"Failed?" She paused to look at him. Her brow furrowed as if she could not understand his words.

 

"It is not impossible," he smiled at her. "I am as mortal and foolish as any man."

 

"What was the mission? To kill the Pilgrims?"

 

"No. No, I was charged only with returning the traitor to Tengerkhad. Instead, I killed her and brought back a terran in the ship's holding chamber."

 

"Me," she said slowly.

 

"You are Kree," he ground out carefully.

 

"Then who?" She asked. Yon fell frustratingly silent. She made a strangled growling noise. "Who? Who did you take?"

 

"It is not a straightforward answer."

 

Vers ran her fingers through her hair and paced as Yon watched her from the bed, his chains hanging over his legs.

 

"It is. You are just clouded by shame and rhetoric."

 

"Do not question my clarity," he commanded, his voice ringing dark and dangerous in the chamber. "Do you think it is these chains that hold me, Vers? Weak terran iron? It is patience. It is control. And you test it."

 

"Are you above questioning?" She hurled at him. Yon was right. Here, he was no longer her master.

 

"When the Terran absorbed the power of the photon chamber, she died. What I brought back was a husk. A chalice meant to be filled by the Supremor."

 

"No, no what you brought back was not some gift of the Supremor. It was the opposite. The Abbess here recreated an even more ancient power-"

 

"You have been consuming lies you don't understand."

 

Vers charged towards him. His eyes widened and she wondered if she had lost control and allowed her skin to crackle. Except she did not feel the sting of heat beneath her skin. Only the rush and tingling of anger and hurt. She knelt between his knees and grabbed one of his hands laying it flat against her chest. She held it there even though she felt his touch would burn her.

 

"Do I feel like a tool?" She demanded. "Am I a husk or a cup? Is that not a heartbeat you feel? Am I cold?"

 

"Vers," he pleaded with her. "I did not mean-"

 

"Or am I just sentikor and silk to you? Am I only warm, do I only feel, because of your blood?"

 

"You have no idea how I feel about you."

 

"You are right. I don't. I thought I understood, but it is clear to me I was wrong."

 

She made to stand, pushing against his thighs to lift herself up. He knotted his hands in her shirt and pulled her down again, so she was balanced awkwardly half against the bed and half in his lap. He pressed his ear to her chest and she held his shoulders awkwardly. They were silent for a long moment as he listened to her heartbeat. At last, he lifted his head and kissed her sternum.

 

"You have no idea the fear I have felt in the days since we were separated. That I would never see you again. That somewhere my blood no longer pumped in your heart. That you were injured and in need of me. You have no idea, Vers, the penance I would have paid to know you were alive."

 

She shifted so her knees rested at the edge of the bed. She leaned forward and laid her cheek on the crown of his head and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

 

"I have thought only of you and never of myself for so long I do know what to mourn. My lost past or the future that cannot be?"

 

"Nothing has changed," he reasoned with her. "What could have changed in less than three days that could undo all we built together?"

 

"It has not been three days," she lifted her head and held his cheek. She looked into his eyes and for the first time saw only a man looking back at her. "Every hour of the last six years we have been creeping closer to this. I am not made of the Supremor's holy fire. I am the Covenant."

 

"No, no. They are misleading you. This is what Mar-Vell wanted. To make zealots that doubted the Supremor. You are the angel of the Supremor. If you cannot find it in you now, be only a woman and we will relearn your faith."

 

"How do you make a woman from an angel?" She teased him, her fingers moving through his hair.

 

He answered her by standing, pulling her with him. He kissed her, his hands still tangled in her shirt tugged her against his body. Vers stilled. Her heart frozen and the stillness aching before it seemed to beat too fast. She stepped away from him. A small hesitant half step as her head spun. She wanted to see his eyes. He tried to follow her. The bed groaned as the chains tugged it away from the wall. He let go of her shirt and wrapped his arms around her waist. She felt the tensing of his body around her before there was a crack of metal. Behind her heels she heard the hard clunk of mangled chains hitting the floor.

 

"Yon," she protested as he leaned in to kiss her again. His hands now free, moved to her neck, his fingers threading behind her head and his thumbs jabbing into her chin to keep her face tilted upwards. He stopped just before her lips.

 

"It is time to decide, Vers. Are you an angel or are you flesh?"

 

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "This breaks your vows."

 

"I decide what breaks my vows," he insisted. He pulled her against him again, but did not kiss her. They both knew she could fight him if she wanted. Or that a single word would halt him.

 

"Yon, did you come alone?"

 

He hesitated. "The crew of my vessel sleeps."

 

She stepped away and he let her go. If she needed space before she gave into him then he would give it.

 

"Then this is still dangerous. They will know you changed course to come for me. The best we can do is remain innocent and withstand even the harshest scrutiny.

 

"I will hide you in my chamber. You will reappear on Tengerkhad just as you did six years ago but this time we will do this right. We will not make the same mistakes."

 

"Then it is even more dangerous. At least when we are only tempted by imagination-"

 

He felt close to falling on his knees and spreading his hands over her thighs as if she were an altar. She didn't understand and he could not make her. She would not trust his ardor if she thought it was only spurred by the Supremor's permission.

 

"My imagination drives me mad already. My keenest deception was not hiding your past Vers, it was making you think I am a man above sin. I killed Mar-Vell because I thought I knew better than the Supremor the danger she held. I took you without their blessing because I thought myself above asking their guidance. You were made Kree through my trespass and all I have wished since I met you was to bury myself in sin."

 

"Why? Make me understand," she nearly begged.

 

"I can't. I can't because I do not know. You break me. At least do me the mercy of breaking me properly."

 

She hesitated for only a moment longer. All of his muscles tensed as he prepared for rejection. He thought her spurning him might crack the last of his sanity. That without her he might burn the universe with rage, unleash the Accusers and never look back. Instead she hurled herself forward catching him about the neck. He caught her, his head ducking to kiss her over and over.

 

Desperate, unrefined, he walked them backward toward the bed as he licked into her heat. He had longed for this, his muscles went nearly slack with relief as his legs hit the pallet and she pushed him down. She followed him, landing heavy as a tangle of limbs. She kissed him apologetically.

 

"I do not know, I do not know," she repeated against his lips as she tried to part their bodies and rearrange their limbs. His hand caught her hair and held her in place so she could not escape him. He did not know either. He had imagined her a thousand times and yet there stretched before him a blankness. An uncertainty. Only instinct and formless desire.

 

"Too many layers separate us," he answered her. 

 

Her shaking legs found their intention and she managed beneath his painful grip to twist so she straddled him. He sat up, slowly pulling her hair backward so the column of her throat was exposed to him. Her eyes on the ceiling she reached sightlessly forward to touch him, her throat bobbing with a swallowed helpless sound. She found the laces of his shirt and clumsily pulled them loose as he watched her pulse jump in her neck. She smoothed her fingers beneath the open collar. Only then he growled and leaned forward. 

 

First, he traced his nose along her taught tendons, then he licked her gently. A slow hot stripe that pulled a surprised and desperate sound from her throat. His other hand pulled loose her shirt from the waistband of her leggings and slipped beneath. He felt her shift below and his chest rumbled in frustration. He released her hair and her head fell forward with a gasp of breath. He pulled her shirt over her head before she could recollect her senses.

 

He attacked the ties at the neck of her shift and shoved it as far as he could down her shoulders. With so much skin exposed he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her. He kissed along the curve of her breasts where they pressed up from his grasp. She clung to him and panted as he marked her flesh over and over with his mouth. 

 

Every touch felt unbearably raw. The sensation of touching her stirring the fire in him he had tried to suffocate. Heat caught beneath his clothes as she moved against him and Yon was forced by lack of air to pull away from her skin and draw gulping shaking breaths into oxygen-starved lungs.

 

"Have I misunderstood, Master?" She teased from above him. He felt her words buzz against his palms.

 

"No. What?" He asked breathless and dazed as he rested against her sternum.

 

"Are we sparring or consummating?"

 

"I am sorry," he breathed forcing himself to relax. He leaned away from her. He knew colour raised in his cheeks and embarrassment flooded outward from his curving spine. He had no gentleness or calm in him.

 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, pushing him back until he lay beneath her. "Be at ease."

 

She smoothed her hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of him. She had so many questions. She wanted to ask them now. She wanted to understand, but more pressing she wanted to sate the trembling curiousity she felt. She had always admired his form, his beauty, his strictness. She had imagined him making love to her before, with all his discipline and strength. To know that he would be without restraint, full of passion was even more intoxicating.

 

She reached his waist and grabbing his shirt, pulled it loose. He swept it over his head impatiently and she stroked along his sternum and over the firm curve of his stomach. She knew he wanted to hurry, she felt his restlessness like a charge beneath his flesh. She only moved slower, tracing him more carefully. He closed his eyes and pressed his head back into the bed. His nose flared as he breathed determinedly in and out.

 

"Stay with me," she coaxed him as he tried to slip into meditation. Her hand moved to the laces of his leggings. She felt the weight of him straining behind his fall and he groaned as her fingers loosened the sinew, parting the opening. "Will you tell me how you knew it wasn't me in the library?"

 

Yon made a sound that was half groan, half laugh as she touched him. He peaked beneath his lashes to see her hand move over him. He lifted his hips so he could shove his leggings down lower on his hips. "They were too gentle."

 

"Too gentle?" She repeated her hand returning to him. He tilted his chin back again and his eyelashes fluttered.

 

"Helgentar Silk and they were touching it like it was tissue. Admiring it," he reached and closed his hand over hers so he could guide her movements. Urging her to hold him more firmly. "You have never treated anything delicately or with reverence."

 

She laughed, leaning closer so she could enjoy the feel of him beneath her fingers; hot and smooth. "Is that all?"

 

"And they looked at me with love," he said softly. His hand stilled over hers for a moment.

 

"I never told them-"

 

He shook his head, exhaling slowly as he began to move them again before his hand retreated to curl into the linens.

 

"When they sim you, they know your feelings. Your true feelings. They could not know the way we have guarded our hearts."

 

"Forgive me, I never meant to bring you pain," Vers said softly. She curled her body forward bringing her mouth above him. He hissed as he felt the warmth of her exhale across him. She licked her lips as she leaned closer. Yon inhaled so deeply he made a choking sound.

 

"Vers," he growled as she flicked her tongue, tracing. His voice shook with warning. "I won't last."

 

"Then what would you have me do?" She taunted, the movement of her hand bringing him against her lips.

 

"Remove your clothes and lie beneath me," he commanded. Vers rolled her eyes but released him. The bed was small, she was still in her boots. She rolled between him and the wall, kicking them until they fell with a thud onto the slate.

 

They bumped against each other as they pulled at their clothes. Their elbows catching soft sides and knees knocking. When Yon was naked he turned to her and gathered handfuls of her shift so he could pull it over her head. She laughed against his shoulder as he threw it over the edge of the bed. It was a high nervous sound as they lay naked beside each other for the first time. She shivered, gooseflesh pricking her skin. He rolled over her and he was wonderfully warm.

 

He had never had a woman before. As he looked down into her eyes he felt inadequate. Vers was right. They had been teetering on the edge of destruction for so long this moment was not the beginning of something new but merely the end of an illusion.

 

He caught her hands and pinned them above her head with one of his hands. He rocked his body between her thighs until on instinct she brought her knees around him. With his other hand he reached between them, tracing with two fingers along the last hidden part of her. It was her turn to close her eyes and tilt her head back. He pressed forward so he could feel her part and the heat of her dampen his fingertips. He moved over her again and again, drawing the heat over her, finding the places that made her flinch and her lashes flutter. When she groaned and pressed more insistently against him, he withdrew.

 

"Tell me you are ready," he commanded.

 

"I am ready."

 

"Tell me to make you flesh," he pressed himself against her.

 

"Make me flesh, Master," she murmured.

 

He scoffed, pushing forward until he could touch his forehead to hers for a brief moment.

 

"When will I school the defiance from your tongue?" He asked, he did not give her time to answer as he kissed her. His thumb pressed into her chin, holding her mouth open to him. When his hips met hers he paused for a moment, panting around the sensation of being fully seated inside her. He felt the tensing and fluttering of her most intimate muscles.

 

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. "You like my defiance too much."

 

"I do," he admitted as he began to move. He hung his head forward and held his cheek to hers. He did not realize such divine sensation was possible, it clutched at his chest and made his breathing laboured. He felt on the edge of some new philosophy.

 

Vers shifted beneath him, moving her hips to meet him. Chasing her own friction. He felt one leg slide over his hip, her heel digging in to keep him close. Forcing his thrusts to stay shallow as her other leg stretched out and tensed so she was lifted up by her own strength to meet him. His hand still pinned her wrists leaving her body arching like a bridge.

 

"Tell me what you feel," He begged her as he rocked them together.

 

"You," she answered around gulping breaths and the small shocks of him bringing their bodies together over and over. "Everything feels like you."

 

He lifted up again so he could look down their bodies where they joined. She groaned at the change in position. He retreated, his hips rolling forward more gently. He didn't want her to hurt, not when to him everything felt like raw pleasure.

 

He took her wrists and brought her arms over his neck.

 

"Hold me," he instructed as his hands slid beneath her body and he lifted her rolling to his back. They landed awkwardly with him propped against the wall and her legs wrapped around him. She cocked her head at him and crinkled her nose. "You guide us."

 

She nodded raising herself up on her knees. She reached between them to grip his humid flesh and brought him against her once again. His head fell backward and his skull made a cracking sound against the stone as she lowered herself onto him. She laughed reaching behind to rub his head.

 

"Don't die," she teased. He groaned, a smile threatening to crack through his focussed expression.

 

"I have found heaven," he answered her with his eyes closed.

 

"Blasphemer," she sounded shocked even as she aided his sin by moving divinely over him. "The Kree have no afterlife."

 

He nodded biting his lip as she found a rhythm that made her body tense and pull him closer. "It would discourage the achieving of all we could in this life."

 

"I will have to take your word for it."

 

"Then this is truly a day of firsts."

 

His hands rubbed her thighs before clenching into her hips, feeling the spring of her firm flesh beneath his fingers. She had no rejoinder as her movements grew sloppy and desperate. He felt the change in her breath and the shudder along her spine. She shivered and went still above him. He revelled in new heat, new pliancy as he felt her body open to him. She sagged forward her cheek against his as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

 

He moved them awkwardly together, thrusting upward as she moaned in his ear at each new angle. He was too close, too raw, to hold back. He found completion quickly as she melted around him, soft and encouraging. It was a euphoria he had no comparison to, the answer to a question he had not known how to ask. He held her and cradled the back of her head. Sweat was slick between them like a humor. It seemed to carry messages between their bodies more clearly than words could.

 

He had a moment of clarity as he held her draped against him. An understanding of something more ancient than the Supremor. A piece that had survived from the time before; sentikor the sacred wood, and to give the gift of your blood's heat. This was why it was sacred. The flesh pounding with blood and heat pressed against your lover. Now made even more potent by the mixing of blood. It was the gift of life, blood without violence. An act of transmutation.

 

"What are you thinking of?" She asked into the crook of his neck. They would cool soon. He should free his cloak to keep her warm.

 

"Nothing," he answered his hand moving to stroke between her shoulder blades. He could still picture when he closed his eyes wings of holy fire bursting from that soft and shaking flesh. "I am without thoughts."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirit in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it's over??
> 
> I mean its been like a weird stop and go but I can officially cross this WIP off my list!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on this weird AU.
> 
> I have had a hoot getting culty with y'all
> 
> ❤💚💙💜DH

Vers was moving. The thought meandered in a sluggish way from the place their thighs were pressed together, her body shifting creating little sparks against his skin, to his senses. He curled his arm around her pulling her beneath his body. She groaned in protest as he hauled her back onto the mattress she was half hanging off.

 

"What are you doing?" He murmured into her shoulder. Beneath his cloak everything was warm and smelled of flesh and hay.

 

"Someone threw my shift on the ground. I am collecting it."

 

"You don't need it," he ran his hands over her. "You said we were alone."

 

"So? Should I wander about as the gods made me?" She teased trying to shuffle away. He held her tighter, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

 

"The Kree have no myth of creation. We are, even in piety a people of science," he corrected her. His hand slipped over her hip as he rolled her further beneath him onto her stomach.

 

"I am only Kree by your creation," she panted as his weight crushed her. She was trapped between the hard jutting of his hips and the gentle exploration of his fingers.

 

"Then we can become the first man and woman of the Supremor," he whispered in her ear. He groaned as she lifted her hips, pressing her firmness exactly where he ached for her. "I bear the holy message and you are the woman I made. Our line will conquer and bring about a new order."

 

"Do not seduce me with blasphemy," she rolled her head to the side, trying to see his face. "I cannot tell when you are serious."

 

"What about me would make you doubt my conviction?" He bent his leg so his knee was between hers. He knocked her thighs wider as he moved his hands to either side of her head.

 

"I don't want to disappoint you," she answered him. The feeling was addicting, being stretched along one another, skin to skin, warm and raw to sensation.

 

"You won't," he whispered against her skin as he nuzzled the base of her neck. He pressed hot kisses down her spine.

 

"I am not going back with you to Tengerkhad."

 

She felt him pause, hovering above her for a moment with his breath held. She felt him shake his head before he kissed along her shoulder blade. He sunk his teeth into her as he bucked his hips more insistently against hers.

 

"You will."

 

"I won't. It will be too dangerous. For both of us."

 

"When I take you I feel closer to the Supremor. I understand better than I ever have the meaning behind their words. What has always remained elusive and opaque becomes clear," he settled his body over hers so she could feel the weight of him holding her to the mattress. "Don't you see, Vers? I need you. I could fuck a new religion into you."

 

"That is what frightens me, Yon. Your role is not one of invention. You will become a target as the Abbess was. You will expose yourself to wrath and accusation."

 

Her cheek still turned, he sunk two fingers into her mouth holding her tongue as her teeth closed instinctively around him.

 

"Do not test me, Vers, by comparing our names. I speak of inspiration, the traitor spoke heresy."

 

He pulled her up by wrapping his other arm about her waist and hauling first to her hands and knees. Then as she stayed pliant he leaned their bodies back so they knelt together, knees interlocking and her body stretched against him. He pulled his fingers from between her lips and felt her ribs expand with breath. He drew a damp line down her sternum. "What will it take to remove their poison from your mind?"

 

"Death," she answered, breaking free of his grip and standing from the bed. She dragged the cloak from where it lay thrown aside and wrapped it around her shoulders.

 

"You have only ever seen what you wanted to see, Yon. With me. With everyone. Even when you suspect or doubt you bury it until you can no longer control it. Then the decision is made for you."

 

"You think I am weak?" He stood, pursuing her even as she stepped away.

 

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "No, it is not weakness. It is the poisoning of faith, of believing beyond logic or reason, when everything you encounter contradicts it. The Supremor will kill you."

 

"The Supremor has favoured me. Favoured our people."

 

"With what? What tangible thing have they given the Kree? Given their spirits? I have seen what they have taken-"

 

"You have been housed, fed and clothed by the glory and wealth of our Empire. Were these empty gestures to you? Are you that selfish?"

 

"Maybe I am. Answer me honestly. When Talos took me, when you were racked by doubt; how did your dinner taste? Was your sleep refreshing? Were your clothes a comfort?"

 

"Vers," his stance softened as he stepped towards her. He reached for her and she flinched but she did not step away from him. "You know there was no comfort for me."

 

"You were my comfort, Yon, all those years on Tengerkhad. I believed because it made you proud. I tried to welcome something into me that I was not made to hold. Maybe it worked, for awhile, but I cannot go back."

 

"Will you stay here? Do you know how long and unnatural your life will be? How lonely? You may doubt your place in Tengerkhad but that does not make this world your home."

 

Vers looked down, she drew away from him. As she turned her eyes swept the unfriendly chamber that had been Carol's sanctuary. Yon was right. Her place was not here either. Much like the Skrulls she was without a home. She could not blame the Supremor anymore than she could blame Yon. Carol had changed both their course when she had thrust her sword into the photon chamber.

 

"Get dressed, Yon. You must be gone before the others return."

 

She left him, his cloak still wrapped around her shoulders.

* * *

He found her in the library. The wardrobe at the back of the room was open and Vers stood in front of it.

 

"What are you wearing?" He asked as he closed the door behind him. His cloak was discarded over the desk. Vers did not look up as she laced a kirtle with short skirts over leggings and a shirt. The hem barely brushing her thighs.

 

"Helgentar silk. The Abbess wore it to protect herself while working with the chamber. Maria thought it would help."

 

"You wear her clothes now?" His voice was tight as he picked up his cloak. Beneath it a book was open. The same one the Skrull had been reading. Vers turned to him and watched the way his fingers traced the page.

 

"My armour is on the Skrull ship and my powers burn away anything weaker if I use them too long."

 

"You anticipate needing them?"

 

Vers felt he was leading her by the nose to some sort of confession.

 

"Yes."

 

"On me?"

 

"Not unless you force me."

 

"An hour ago you still called me 'Master'."

 

"You will always be my Master," she came closer to him and turned the book to face her. "I do not wish anything between us undone."

 

"You called yourself the Covenant. What did you mean?"

 

"When I first heard you sing the prayers the Supremor, you said it was the language spoken when we met the Supremor. When the Covenant was formed between us."

 

She turned the pages of the book as he watched her. They made no sound as she mercilessly flipped through, the silk landing on silk without even a rustle.

 

"A long time ago."

 

"So long we can agree many things have been lost?"

 

"There are limits to such an agreement," Yon added warily.

 

Vers turned the book to face him. The page was illuminated by a painting of a crack in the ground. On one side stood a Kree, blue with traditional braids and on the other a Skrull. They clasped hands over the pit and burning in their palms was a flame. From the pit limp silver coils slithered.

 

"This is more than heresy, Vers, it is depravity."

 

"What if the Covenant was between the Skrulls and the Kree, to build something together. Something that would end war and suffering? Is that not what the Supremor promises? Give in to me and end your suffering?"

 

"Not like this. The Skrulls are animals."

 

Vers turned her hand palm up and ignited the fire beneath her skin.

 

"The Abbess discovered something forgotten. Something that required the Skrulls-"

 

Yon reached out and grabbed her hand. He grimaced even as she extinguished the fire as quickly as it had sprung up.

 

"This is one book. A painting from an unknown imagination. It proves nothing beyond invention and delusion may sometimes cross and seem like truth."

 

Vers opened her mouth to argue when a flash lit the Abbey walls. Followed by a bang. To some it may sound like thunder but they knew it was the sound of ships entering the atmosphere.

 

Vers pulled away and ran for the doors.

 

In the sky hung an Accuser ship. Landed in the water just beyond the shore was a vessel bearing the symbol of the PlusKrusade. Vers halted as she saw them. Her heart went cold with betrayal. She turned to Yon as he followed her.

 

"You said you came alone," she shouted above the wind made by the ship's exhausts.

 

"I did," he answered as he saw his crew running towards them, shields and swords in place. They stopped just paces from him and bowed. "What is going on? You have disturbed my pilgrimage."

 

"Your grace," his pilot bowed again. "The system woke us early. The Accuser's tracked the ship that attacked you to this planet."

 

Only then did the pilot's eyes seemed to light on Vers. He stuttered. Vers straightened her spine and held Yon-Rogg's eyes.

 

"Good work, Captain. Take his grace on board," Vers commanded with all the authority of the PlusKrusade's personal guard. Yon's eyes burned into her.

 

"Vers," he hissed coming closer to her as his crew began to close rank around him. "I cannot return without you."

 

"Do not wait for me," Vers said over Yon's shoulder. "The PlusKrusade must be protected."

 

With her command they closed their shields around him and travelled in formation back towards the ship. As the shields came together, Vers caught one last look at Yon's expression of anger and betrayal. And something soft that looked terrifyingly like acceptance.

 

She shook her head to clear her fears and strode out to face the ships. The doors were opening as Yon-Rogg's ship lifted into the air. She braced herself. She would know these warriors, by face if not by name. They began to splash into the water as it frothed half way up their calves. Vers extended her hands and lit her fists, pulling air in through her nose as she tried to distill her anger and confusion into conviction. As the first warrior landed on the beach a bolt whistled through the sky and pierced their eye.

 

They fell.

 

Vers turned and saw riding up the beach dozens of horses. Maria was in front, her crossbow lifted. Skrulls were mounted behind her. The hooves of the horses kicked up sand and Vers could not help grinning at the sight.

 

She turned back and flung herself towards the hoard.

 

Some of the Skrulls dismounted and charged forward from the ground. Others stayed on their horses and hacked at their enemy from above.

 

Vers grappled with a warrior twice her size, blocking the swings of his steel bludgeon as she tried to land a heated blow. A bolt struck his throat and he fell forward. She growled as she shoved him back into the water.

 

She turned and saw Talos, sword in hand, mounted on a horse. A woman behind him held the bow. Nestled between their bodies, concealed mostly by her father's cloak was a little girl.

 

"Friends of yours?" Talos called over the commotion.

 

"Not exactly," Vers answered. She nodded at his partner. "Your wife?"

 

"Yes," Talos smiled. "Introductions later. We can handle the ground. What do you suggest we do about that?"

 

He hacked down a charging Kree before pointing with his sword at the Accusers in the sky. Vers looked up at the looming shadow.

 

"That might have to be me," she answered with a grin.

* * *

Yon had watched through the shield as a streak of light had torn through the Accuser ship. It had split and burned before plummeting. He had felt awe. Divine awe at the power. Power he had barely come to know.

 

He had walked from the flight chamber to pray, but found he could not approach the altar.

 

Instead, he had paced in his small quarters torturing himself with memories of their last encounter. Of the sweet shaking heat of her body. Of how even when they disagreed she seemed always to be reaching for him across the chasm of doubt.

 

His comm beeped, "your grace, the ground ship is hailing us. They ask for you."

 

Dread filled him as he approached the flight cabin again.

 

"Leave," he commanded. The crew stood awkwardly and shuffled from the cramped space. Once they were gone, he opened the link.

 

She was sitting in the commander's chair. A cloak was about her shoulders and she was leaned forward looking at her hands. For a moment, he could watch the dark unclear shape of her inside a Krusade ship. She sighed and looked up. She held his gaze silently for a long moment.

 

"Have you changed your mind about coming to Tengerkhad or are all my men dead?" He asked trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

 

"Both."

 

"Vers-"

 

"I am coming to end it, Yon. The Supremor, the wars, everything. Go to Tengerkhad. Rally your men. Fight me, Yon. Prove your conviction until the end."

 

Before he could make an answer, she closed the channel. He understood now.

 

He understood why that night he became PlusKrusade his old commander had taken the knife without resistance. He had judged him. He had pitied him. And now after barely holding the title, after burning only a fraction of the planets and hearing only one one-hundredth of the confessions he understood.

 

He understood what it meant to crave the release. He wondered if when Vers came for him, he too would go as silently.


End file.
